Curse of the Triforce
by Lord Syntax
Summary: 400 years before Ganondorf's birth, the Triforce first becomes the object of mortals' desires. Heroes, kings and thieves clash in their bid for its terrible power, heralding the dawn of a new, bloody age in the history of Hyrule. Prequel to OoT and AoL.
1. The Wish of a King

_Author's notes:_

_The following story is a prequel to Ocarina of Time and is set four centuries before that game. It is based on the premise that evil did not start with Ganondorf; that there were others before him who coveted the Triforce and tried to acquire it by any means necessary. There are also a few tie-ins to other Zelda games, particularly to one of the older ones._

_The story features a large cast of original characters along with early iterations of Link and Zelda, as well as two certain young Gerudo witches before they were witches. There are multiple main characters with alternating PoV's, which may or may not be your thing (just a fair warning, so to speak)._

_Reviews are always welcome. They don't have to be long or comprehensive; just pointing out a single thing you liked or disliked can already be helpful._

_With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this story!  
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Act I of III

**Chapter 1: The Wish of A King  
**

Accompanied by his eldest son, his senior advisor and a dozen armed soldiers, the King of Hyrule arrived at the small military base in northern Hyrule. Their horses moved in a slow-paced trot to accommodate for the king's advanced age, passing through the garrison's main gate as the guards saluted the high-ranking visitors. The king's son and successor, Crown Prince Darion, was the only one to return the salute, having always fancied himself a soldier as well as a prince.

"Here we are," he said while bringing his horse head to head with his father's. "Will you now tell us the reason for this visit?"

"You'll see for yourself soon enough," King Artaxis said, his voice still a commanding presence, although it had lost some of its volume recently. He wore no crown or other regalia, since everyone recognized him as the king anyway, and his lean body was wrapped in the thick coat he always wore when he left the Keep.

"Help me, son."

Reminding himself how much his father disliked impatience, Darion dispensed with the questions, dropped from his horse and helped his father out of the saddle with a firm hand. Around them, the soldiers were also dismounting, as was the sage Malark, his father's advisor; a Sheikah mage whose gaunt and haggard features made even the king seem young in comparison.

"It's over there," the king said, shook off Darion's hand and pointed at the small chapel of the North Garrison. "Follow me inside."

Darion looked at Malark for explanation, but the wizard seemed to be as much as a loss about their destination as the prince himself, favouring him with a faint shrug before he scurried behind his master.

_Why would we visit a chapel? Is it because of mother?_

Darion sighed and told himself that everything his father did, he did for a reason, and that the explanation for this sudden visit to this well-defended garrison would be supplied soon. He followed the king and his soldiers into the chapel, whose hexagonal interior was barely large enough to hold the dozen-or-so men. Darion noticed that there were also guards stationed inside who had already been there before their arrival, and wondered what their purpose might be.

Then he saw the circular, blue shimmering field at the centre of the chapel, where he would have expected an altar. Such things did not occur naturally in the world, he knew, and immediately thought of magic.

"This is a portal," King Artaxis explained. "It will bring us into another world." He spoke casually, as if he had just announced something trivial and mundane.

"Another... world?" Darion asked, trying to convey a sense of skepticism without insulting his father. "How is that possible?"

"It is possible," the king simply replied. "Go now," he addressed the soldiers of his escort, "and remember well what I told you." Without response, the soldiers marched toward the blue field and through it, vanishing without a trace. Even though he knew of the existence of magic, Darion still could not hide his amazement.

_Perhaps this trip won't be a waste of time, after all._

"Now, before we follow them, there are a few things I have to make clear to the two of you," the king addressed Darion and Malark when all but the four chapel guards had disappeared through the portal. "Once we're on the other side, both of you will stand where you are and simply watch. You are not to touch anything."

"Of course, your highness," Malark replied, ever the obedient servant. Darion also nodded after a short hesitation. "Will it be dangerous on the other side?" he asked and reassured himself that his sword was attached to his belt.

"Not if you heed my words just now," the king replied earnestly. "Do not try to touch anything, or else the guards will stop you."

_You're making it sound as if the guards are there to defend against us_, Darion thought dourly, but did not dare to say it out loud, for his father would surely have taken offence.

"You may resent my harsh and overly suspicious measures," Artaxis said as if he had read Darion's mind, "but what lies beyond this gate is of utmost importance for the providence of our realm. Which is why I must show it to you, Darion."

"Then why didn't Zelda come with us?" the prince asked. "If this involves magic," he said and pointed at the shimmering portal, "I'm sure she'd love to see it!"

"People do not have their wishes fulfilled merely because they'd love to," Artaxis replied. "And besides, the future of the dynasty requires that not all of my children pass through this portal at the same time – what would happen if it closed suddenly?"

"Has it been known to do that?" the wizard Malark asked from the side.

"No, not in over a hundred years," the king replied.

"A hundred years..." Malark drew in the air and frowned. "Why did I never learn of its existence?"

"Because its secrets are mine to reveal or to conceal, Malark." Artaxis' tone was authoritative and brooked no protest. "It will be revealed to you now. Is that not enough?"

"Yes, your majesty." Malark's haggard face withdrew into its hood, and the wizard fell silent again.

"So we're not really in any danger of being stranded on the other side?" Darion asked.

"Not particularly, but it might still happen. If both of us vanished along with Zelda, Kyrus would have take the throne before his second birthday. Would you want that?"

"Um, no, of course not," Darion muttered, thinking about his infant brother whom he had only seen once or twice since birth. A regency for an underage king always invited instability; that much he knew about politics.

"We cannot know the future, my son, and caution is a virtue any king should value highly," Artaxis concluded.

Darion sighed. He did not want to hear another lesson about the virtues of a king, at least not right now. He was twenty-two years old and felt perfectly capable of succeeding his father and becoming a good king at any moment, although he hoped for his father's sake that this moment would not come too soon.

"Besides," the king said, "your sister already knows more about this than you do."

"How so? Have you been favouring her over me?"

Artaxis frowned. "How envious you can be! No, it was nothing I did. She was just more... inquisitive than you, I guess. She asked questions, and some people..." he closed his eyes and sighed, "some people, in the goodness of their hearts, told them about this even though I had forbidden."

"It was mother, wasn't it?"

"Yes. She came with me the last time I was here, shortly after our wedding, and I shared all my knowledge about this place with her... if only she could accompany me again."

"Damn the plague," Darion spat. He did not like being reminded of his mother right now. Not so much because of her in particular – he had loved her, of course, but she had always been closer to Zelda than to her son – but because it reminded him of the epidemic that was right now ravaging Hyrule and that had claimed many more victims other than her.

"Yes, the plague. You will be happy to learn that we are here to do something about that."

"What?" Darion asked. "How do you plan to-"

"Easy, son," the king said and raised his hand. "We have spent enough time talking. It will be much easier to simply show you. Follow me, both of you." Without waiting for an answer, Artaxis turned around and slowly walked through the shimmering portal, disappearing entirely.

"After you, your highness," Malark said, and Darion followed his father, striding boldly through the portal, feeling only a slight tickle on his skin when he passed through it. Other than that, there was no sensation, and he merely entered a different room as if he had passed through an ordinary door.

"Step forward, so Malark has room to follow you," his father said, and Darion obeyed while appraising his surroundings. He was in a strange chamber whose walls and ceiling were concealed in darkness, even though there was a bright and radiant source of light right in the middle of the room. Surrounded by the soldiers who were holding their lances at the ready, three golden triangles were floating several feet above the floor, slowly rotating around their own axis.

"You recognize it, of course," King Artaxis said, which to Darion seemed like an understatement. Naturally, he recognized the symbol that was part of the kingdom's crest – not a day went by when he did not see it on the uniforms of the Hylian soldiers, and on the flags and tapestries in the Keep.

"But I never knew it was real," the prince said. "I thought it was just a symbol from some old legend."

"It used to be," the king said. "Until the day a young wizard found this portal. Why do you think the North Garrison was built here?"

_To serve as an outpost against the Moblins in the northern mountains,_ Darion wanted to say, but he knew the real reason now. "To guard and protect the Triforce," he replied.

"Marvelous!" Both Darion and his father turned around when they heard Malark's excited voice – a tone utterly unusual for the ever-composed wizard.

"I feel such enormous power – greater than anything I thought possible!" His eyes and mouth wide open, the wizard strode past them toward the Triforce, only to be rudely stopped by the crossed lances of two soldiers.

"I trust you remember my orders, Malark?" the king asked with a taxed voice when the wizard made a hurried step backwards. "You are not to touch anything!"

"Your majesty wounds me by implying I forgot," the cloaked wizard said in his usual dry voice; not really looking offended, as far as Darion could tell. "I am ever your loyal servant. As are all of the Sheikah."

"Then curb your amazement, lest an unfortunate accident befall you."

"Of course, your highness."

The king nodded, satisfied by his advisor's assurances, and turned around again, extending both arms toward the Triforce.

"This is the greates secret of our kingdom, and the reason the North Garrison is always fully manned, even with our current troop shortages. Now do as I told you and watch."

As Darion observed his father, he noted that Malark, who was now standing right next to him, watched the Triforce with an expression that could only be called 'rapt'. He smiled inwardly, almost happy that the gloomy old wizard had finally found something to be excited about, and returned his attention to his father, who was now standing right before the Triforce with his back turned to them.

Darion could not fail to notice, and not for the first time, that his father's hair had turned completely white over the past weeks. He had turned grey early, and his wife's slow succumbing to the plague had left its permanent mark on his already aged body.

Artaxis raised his right hand and touched the Triforce, which surely was made from pure gold and kept afloat by powerful magic. As he touched it, the triangles stopped spinning, and he began to speak.

"I call upon the power of the gods, not for myself, but for my people's sake!" The king's voice was shaking, as it did so often in recent times, but he continued. "They have been beleaguered by a terrible plague, and neither doctors nor wizards have been able to find a cure to end their suffering. So it is with no other alternative that I make my wish."

The king took a deep breath.

"I wish for my people to be healed. I wish for their skin to be free from festering pustules, and for the black mucus to vanish from their throats, so that not another soul will have to die from this disease."

Nothing happened. Artaxis withdrew his hand, and the triangles continued to slowly turn around their own axis.

_Well, of course nothing happened_, Darion thought. What was his father _expected_ to happen? Had he taken him all the way out here so that he could offer a prayer to the gods?

The king certainly seemed to believe his wish had had an effect, though, for he looked like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He turned to his son and advisor and breathed out in relief.

"For better or for worse, it is done. And I pray that it be for the better," he told them. Malark did not seem to listen, his eyes still transfixing the Triforce. "The plague is over. Let us return."

"What are you talking about?" Darion burst out. "Wishful thinking is not going to cure the plague, nor is prayer!"

"Darion!" the king said harshly. "Do not belittle me!"

"I'm sorry, father," Darion replied with his head cast down, reminded for the thousandth time that his father did not brook being criticized in public, if at all. "But I don't understand."

"I suppose you don't," King Artaxis sighed and spoke to Darion as one would speak to a child. "The Triforce was left behind as a gift by the Golden Goddesses after they created this world. By touching them and making a wish, it is possible to use the power of the gods. To do good with them. Or evil, if one had a black heart."

"Does it really have the power to cure the plague?" Darion shook his head. "I can't believe it!"

"Why don't you take your father's word for it?" the king asked sternly. "But I suppose you don't have to. Take history's word instead. When a great drought brought famine and starvation to Hyrule twenty years ago, why did the rains miraculously return one day? When the armies of the kingdom of Katalon invaded Hyrule thirty-two years ago, why were they miraculously vanquished one day even though they had only won victories before?"

Darion gasped.

"Do you mean... _you_ did that? Using the Triforce?"

"Yes, I did. Which is why I have complete confidence that it worked this time, too."

The prince found himself confused. His father could be humorous and even make fun of his son on rare occasions, although the plague and the death of the queen had put a noticeable strain on that, but he never misled him or outright lied to him. And besides, once they were back in Keeptown, he would be able to see with his own eyes whether the king's words were true. So for now, he might just as well believe him. Which made him furious.

"But father! If you could do this – if you could cure the plague with a wave of your hand, at any time – why did you not do it sooner? Why did you wait until so many died? Until mother – _your own wife_ – died?"

King Artaxis had a coughing fit which delayed his answer, then looked at his son with great sobriety where Darion had expected anger. The soldiers standing around the Triforce, trained for discretion, appeared not to be listening to the dispute between father and son, while Malark had only eyes for the Triforce, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking very hard about something.

"I expected you to ask this question, naturally," Artaxis said. "And in spite of that, I could not think of an easy answer. Let me put it this way: If I were to solve every little problem of our kingdom by using the Triforce, our ability to cope with problems of our own would dwindle, until we'd be helpless, completely dependant on the Triforce. If every plague were healed thus, our doctors would never learn anything new. If every enemy was defeated thus, our soldiers would lose their edge."

"That may be right, but-"

"And who knows?" The king ignored Darion's interruption. "The Triforce may not be there forever. Or it may one day be 'used up', if you will. My father was fortunate enough to never have to use it during his reign, and he made me swear on his deathbed that I only use it under the most dire circumstances – the same oath I will expect to hear from you, by the way, when... my time comes."

Darion had not even thought about the fact that he would one day inherit the Triforce – that thought was a little too big in its implications right now, so he put it aside.

"But why not earlier? The plague is not a 'little problem'! It never was, from the beginning!"

"I was in contact with many doctors and healers of our realm, always questioning them on their progress in regards to a cure. And there were several cases when they seemed so close!" The king let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "But in the end, they all failed. The last hope ended two days ago, when a friend of mine who is also a physician told me he was at his wits end. That was when I decided to use the Triforce."

"Why did you hesitate? At that time, you still could have saved mother... and so many others!"

"Why? Because I spent one day praying to the gods, asking them to cure the plague, begging them not to make me do their job. I hate using the Triforce. It takes a man far too close to being a god to be comfortable. And I don't believe I would make much of a god."

"But I believe in you, father! Why didn't you... I'm so disappointed in you!"

"I appreciate your trust, but nobody makes for a good god. Perhaps not even the Goddesses themselves, or they would have created a perfect world, one without strife and plague."

Incensed by his father's resigned tone, Darion clenched his fists. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try!" he said loudly.

"Darion, let it rest. It's a decision I made long ago, and it can not be reversed."

The prince knew better than to talk back to the old man, and even though he fundamentally disagreed with him, he obeyed and dropped the subject. His father was always open to advice from the sages and others, sometimes to the point where some thought him _too_ open, but he rarely ever listened to his son. Darion blamed the large age difference between them.

_There is no need to have this argument now_, he thought. _All I have to do is wait, and then I'll be able to use the Triforce myself, one day._

The thought was extremely alluring – if the Triforce lived up to his father's promises, Darion could use it to lead Hyrule into a new era of peace and prosperity once it was his turn on the throne. But then he remembered something his father had said that he simply had to speak out against.

"Father, you said you'll expect me to swear to you one day that I won't use the Triforce outside of major catastrophes"

"As I swore to my father, and he to his father, who was the first king to make a wish on the Triforce."

_He can't possibly expect me to take an oath like that, can he?_

"Father, I don't want to lie to you. Which is why I must tell you here and now that I won't take that oath."

Artaxis looked at his son sternly. "We'll talk about that when the time comes."

"No, we must talk about it now. You are the king, and you do what you think is right, and I will always respect that, no matter how much I disagree with you. But as soon as I am king, I must do what I think is right."

"_As soon as?_ Mark your words!"

"I'm sorry."

As the king grew older and older, he became increasingly more sensitive about the topic of his own death, to the point where he interpreted innocent remarks like the one Darion had just made as deliberate attempts to upset him.

_How can he expect me to become a good king if I have to pretend that the day will never come?_

The king frowned and looked at his son like as a father might look at a wilful child.

"If that really is your decision, Darion, then I might just have to hide the Triforce from you, to prevent you from falling victim to the allure of becoming a god."

Darion recoiled as if his father had slapped him in the face, which, for the record, he had stopped doing once his son had been ten years old.

_He cannot be serious!_

"You can't deprive me of such a valuable tool!" Darion cried out, heedless of the listeners around them, although he knew on some level that they should move this argument behind closed doors. "No king has the right to meddle in the reign of his successor from beyond the grave!"

"I won't tell you again, I'm not dead yet!" the king said hoarsely.

"As things stand, Hyrule would be better off if you were!"

The king winced at Darion's suggestion, and the guards, who had been desperately trying not to listen to the royal quarrel, were equally shocked, glaring at the prince in open outrage. Darion realized that his last remark had crossed a line that nobody – especially not the crown prince – was ever allowed to cross. And he had not even truly meant it: He had simply lashed out at his father in his anger.

"I'm sorry," Darion muttered beneath his breath and turned around on the spot, crossing through the portal without the king's leave. Recalling some of the heated arguments between himself and his father, he decided that it would be best to stay away from him now, or else he might talk himself into _real_ trouble.

_I'll talk to him later_, he thought as he left the small chapel. _When both of us have calmed down._

Darion intended to ride back to Keeptown immediately to get a head start on his father, but his plans were disrupted when he saw the feverish movements and frantic battle preparations being made outside the chapel. Dozens of soldies, both Hylian regulars and Sheikah Elites, were assembling outside of the barracks, horns were being blown and orders yelled.

"What's going on here?" Darion asked the closest soldier.

"A group of Moblins approaching from the north, your highness," the man said. "At least fifty strong. Our defences are being readied even as we speak."

"We can't fight them here," Darion said. "The king is inside the chapel!"

"But what shall we-"

"We'll intercept the monsters in the field outside! They must not get close to the king! I'll take command!"

"Yes, your highness!"

In the face of danger, the quarrel with his father was all but forgotten, and Darion was able to focus on his duty as a soldier. He took one of the men aside and told him to enter the chapel and tell the king to hide beyond the portal, where he would be reasonably safe.

_He could just kill all of these Moblins with one sentence_, Darion thought bitterly. _But I doubt he's going to do that. _He overlooked the soldiers readying themselves for combat and was taken with sadness. _Some of these men will die because of his refusal._

Darion shook his head forcefully to clear his mind – he was going into battle, and even the slightest distraction could prove fatal there. For now, he would concentrate on what he did best – fighting. But even as he led the bigger part of the garrison out on foot to meet the brutish Moblins in the field, Darion could not help but fear, at the back of his mind, that his rash words had forever driven a wedge between his father and himself.


	2. A Belated Miracle

**Chapter 2: A Belated Miracle**

"And so we give their bodies back to the earth," the priest said solemnly, "to return whence they came. But their souls will ascend to heaven, there to dwell among the Goddesses, free from their mortal coils. Now let us pray that this be so."

The assembled members of the congregation closed their eyes and folded their hands, some of them muttering their prayers aloud, most praying without words. Among those who remained silent, Link thought, there probably were many who did not pray at all, but simply pretended to. Two months of the plague ravaging the village of Valhart had done much to shake the people's faith, and only the most pious – or most desperate – still believed that there was some divine plan behind it all. He also noted that the people who prayed audibly almost always had relatives or friends who were not beyond saving, and for whom prayer actually might accomplish something.

Link was not one of them. His parents were among the five people being laid to rest here this morning, and most of his few, but precious friends had either succumbed to the disease or had survived it. Of course he still hoped that his fellow villagers would be spared any more suffering, but as far as his own circle of loved ones was concerned, there was no point in praying any more.

He was not even very angry or sad, having had enough time to prepare for the outcome of his parents' disease. Once an afflicted person went past the point of no return, when the pustules covered most of one's upper body and face, death within days was certain, without exception. This way, at least both the dying and their relatives had enough time to say their farewells and harden their hearts against the inevitable.

In spite of his situation, Link was trying very hard to retain a semblance of good spirits. Both of his parents had asked him not to be chained by grief, and he was going to honour that wish.

"The death of the parents is a new beginning for the child," his father had said. "Now you can chart your own course in life." Of course, as far as Link was concerned, he would have been perfectly able to chart that course with both of his parents still alive. But although his father had always been a man of few words, he was most often right when he spoke, and so Link had decided to wait and see whether there was some truth to his words.

_This day would have arrived anyway, sooner or later_, he told himself. _It just so happened to come sooner._

"May the Goddesses look fondly on our prayers and our faith," the priest continued after a minute had gone by. "And may all of you remember that this ordeal, too, must come to an end one day, and that normalcy will return. Now go your separate ways, and never lose hope for the future."

The congregation dispersed quickly, most of the villagers deeply fatigued from the daily burials that had been going on for weeks on end. However, most of them stopped by the bereaved ones before they left, expressing their condolences and giving them some words of encouragement. The close ties between the villagers were the only thing that kept the community together during these dark times, and while the plague had strained these ties, it would take more than that to break them entirely. Link accepted the kind words with the expected somber gratitude, occasionally telling them that he was going to be all right.

"If you need help with anything," Landrass, the village's mayor told him as he shook Link's hands, "we'll be there for you. Just tell us."

"Thank you," Link replied, "but I think I can handle everything. I already had to run our farm on my own during the last few weeks."

A proud, yet sad smile flickered over the mayor's face. "You're strong, Link, and not just for your age. As we all must be, in times like this. We shouldn't have to, but... that's how things are. Well, take care. We'll talk again."

The mayor left, his gaunt body visibly shaken by the cold wind, leaving Link to overlook the cemetery. The undertaker's helpers were already filling up the graves, and although Link had often helped them in the past, on this day, with his parents down there, he felt he was justified in making an exemption. The priest was still there, too, his eyes closed, probably in prayer, as well as several next-of-kins doing the same.

Link sighed. There was no point in his staying here any longer, but he did not want to return to his now empty house, either; he had taken care of all the animals before the funeral rites. So he simply shuffled through the largely empty streets of Valhart, lost in his own thoughts, until he came, by mere accident, to the house of a friend who had not been able to attend the funeral today, caring for her sick brother. Link decided he should talk to somebody, or else he would be sad and gloomy the whole day, so he knocked at the door and opened it after a voice told him to come in.

"Hello, Link," Kari said as he entered. His close friend since childhood was sitting on a chair next to a bed occupied by her younger brother, who was sleeping, covered in blankets. She wore a a thick coat that was far too big for her, probably because the house was unheated and cold. She was almost as tall as Link, who was not a small person himself, and her short black hair contrasted with her fair skin. Link had once told her she looked cute, to which she had responded with an incredulous laugh, whereupon he had not approached the subject again.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come to your parents' funeral, Link," she said, "but my brother-"

"You don't have to apologize," Link interrupted her. "I know he's in the critical stage."

"Yes. If he survives the next twelve hours, he'll recover and never get the disease again." Kari's voice sounded hopeful, but also prepared for the worst.

Link knew that phase only too well, as he, too, had suffered through it and lived, as well as Kari and many other villagers. The fact that nobody who lived through the plague could be afflicted again was probably the main reason the community had not fallen apart after a week, since few would have been willing to risk their own life by caring for others.

"Has he had any fever yet?" Link asked, but the dry rags on the table next to a bucket of cold water told him the answer. Kari shook her head.

"I hope it hits him soon. Wait, that sounds cruel. But the sickness has to burn itself out. That's why I couldn't come. I have to stay with him, because it could start at any time."

_I told you already, you don't have to apologize,_ Link wanted to say, but thought better of it. Criticizing Kari for being considerate was probably not a good idea. Instead he dragged a chair to the table and took a seat opposite to Kari.

"So now you're an orphan, too," Kari said. "It feels strange, doesn't it? I mean, of course our parents were bound to die before us, but it shouldn't have been that early."

"'Orphan' is probably not the right word. Not for us, at least. I mean, we're sixteen. We're almost adults ourselves."

"Hey, I'm seventeen," Kari protested. "For over a week now!"

"My apologies to the old lady."

"Apologies accepted," Kari said without blinking. "So what brings you here, young man?"

"Nothing in particular," Link said. "I just don't want to go home right now. The silence and the emptiness would probably make me nervous."

"Feel free to stay here over night," Kari offered. "That way, you can stand watch over Kalim when I'm too tired."

"I'll do that, no problem."

"Thank you." She went to a cupboard and took out a bottle of unidentified contents, and two cups. "You want something?"

"I don't even know what it is."

"It's just wine. I mean, not that there's anything to celebrate, on the contrary. But it helps to keep me going."

Link smirked, something he had not done for weeks. He did not remember whether he was doing it right, but it had to suffice. "Have you turned into a drunkard while I wasn't looking?"

"Oh shut up," Kari told him off with faked indignation, filled the glasses and pushed one of them towards Link, emptying the other with several gulps, "or do I have to remind you of the time you went to church every day just to sniff the incense?"

"I don't do that anymore," Link defended himself.

"Yes, because the priest found out and banned you from church for two months!"

"Hey, I was twelve. Give it a rest." He took a sip from his own cup, having no intention of wasting it by drinking too fast. Wine always made him feel warm, which was exactly what he needed right now.

"Did you know," he asked Kari, "that Doctor Pallum has returned from Keeptown? He said the plague was even worse there, that with so many people stuck so close together." He knew because the doctor had visited his parents the day before, shortly before they both passed away. "But they don't have a cure or anything, either. He said there probably won't be any, ever."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Kari answered flatly while filling up her glass again. "The plague will run its course. The majority of people already got it, and soon everyone will be either dead or immune. Then it'll be all over."

"Don't talk like that," Link admonished her. "Even at this late stage, a cure could still save lots of people. Like Kalim, for instance."

"I know, I know." Kari moved her hand back and forth through her hair. "Look, Link, I don't want you to think of me as callous, but everybody is that way now, to a degree. The mayor called it 'grief fatigue', and he said it's actually a good thing, or we'd all be in despair."

"I guess he's right," Link said, remembering his own observations in that regard, then changed the topic. "The doctor also said that the queen had died."

"Oh, that's too bad for her children." Kari frowned. "But in a way, it feels almost fair. So many of the common people have died, it would have been unfair if the royal family had been completely spared."

"Careful," Link warned her, "you're sounding callous again."

"Shut up. It's not like anybody heard it."

"Am I not anybody?"

She rolled her eyes. "I mean anybody that matters."

"Right," he sighed. "Just poor old me."

Link was reminded of something else the doctor had said, something he had wanted to talk to Kari about, although he did not quite know how to approach it.

"The royal knights and soldiers have taken an especially great toll, Doctor Pallum told me, because the plague could spread easily in their cramped barracks. They're desperately looking for new recruits to join up."

"How stupid. Nobody in their right mind is going to sign up as long as the plague is still running rampant."

"Except for people who survived it."

"Well, yeah, I guess that's a given." Kari suddenly looked up from her cup (was it the second? Or third? Link had not kept count) and looked at him. "Wait! You're not thinking about..."

"Actually, I am."

Kari looked at him quizzically, not sure whether he was leading her on. "I thought you were going to continue running your parents' farm?"

"The doctor told me that lots of highwaymen are preying on travellers these days, and that the guards just can't keep the roads safe."

"Then maybe people shouldn't travel," Kari griped, but Link ignored her remark.

"You know I'm good at using my sword-"

"Oh, how modest."

"-and I think I could do some good there. Don't you agree?"

"What, you came here so I could agree?" Kari made a moping face.

"I came to ask for your opinion, because it actually matters to me. Except when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk, I haven't even really started drinking." Kari rocked back and forth with her chair, causing the legs to creak and making Link fear that she would fall over backwards.

"You've always been such a terrible do-gooder," she said.

"And you have always benefitted from that," Link pointed out.

"I guess that's why I've stuck around you so much."

"Yes, please, shatter my illusions of friendship."

"I'm really trying hard here not to be sarcastic, all right?" Kari stopped rocking and looked intently at Link. "If this is just some mood born from depression, then you had better stay. But if it really means something to you, then you should do it. Don't worry about everyone else, we'll be able to get by on our own."

Link raised an eyebrow. "Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, I'm not. I can even take your farm – it's not like I'll be lumberjack like my father." She grinned deviously. "Just don't expect me to give it back to you after you're done soldiering."

"I guess that counts as support?" Link asked.

"It does." Kari filled up her cup again. "More wine?"

Link was not sure whether to say yes or no, but he did not get around to it, anyway, because a commotion had arisen in the village's main street, with people flocking together, shouting and chanting.

"What's going on?" Kari asked Link, who was sitting closer to the room's small window.

"Looks like something good happened," he said, because the people outside were all looking utterly elated. He could not understand everything they were shouting, but the words 'miracle' and 'gods' were frequently repeated.

"I'll go outside and ask," he said, getting up from his chair, but a voice in the back of the room held him back.

"Kari? Sister, you know what? I'm feeling much better!"

Kalim had woken up, sitting upright in his bed. He had torn away the blankets covering his upper body, and both Link and Kari stared at him, mouths agape, as they looked at his unblemished skin. There were no pustules, nor any other sign of the plague. Which was, of course, impossible...

"I haven't drunk that much," Kari said incredulously. "Link, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Link found no words as he watched Kalim climb out of his bed, jumping around happily, unconcerned about how impossible or miraculous his recovery was. Kari finally decided to trust her senses and hugged her little brother, her previous coldness replaced by genuine joy. Link left them alone for the moment and left the small house, trying to make sense of things. He approached the crowd that had formed on the street, grabbed the closest villager and asked him what was going on.

"The plague is gone," the man giggled happily, "it's a miracle!"

"The gods have finally saved us!" somebody else shouted. "We are cured!"

Only now Link realized that many of the villagers running around had been deathly ill only a day before, and were now wondrously healed, just as Kalim. It did not make any sense at all, but it did not really have to. The facts were there for everybody's eyes to see: The plague was indeed gone without a trace.

Somebody wanted to embrace Link, but he backed off, not in the mood to share the general happiness. Of course he was glad for everyone, but still... could this miracle, this divine intervention, not have happened one day earlier? That way, his parents would still be alive!

Link closed his eyes and stomped his foot on the ground. There was no helping things, of course: The dead were dead. He still felt a great deal of frustration, and, unwilling to be a killjoy, but also unwilling to join in the celebration, he trudged down the street toward the edge of the village, toward his empty house. He was going to gather his sword and some clothes and provisions and realize his plans: He would go to Keeptown and join the army of the king. He'd be able to improve his sword skills, and maybe even do some good, and Valhart would still be there if he returned after a year or two.

_But I at least have to say goodbye to Kari_, Link thought, feeling a sense of dissatisfaction when he thought about their conversation just now. He might have been willing to stay in Valhart if she had asked him to, but... well, what had he expected? Having her support in this matter was fine, too.

_No sense in telling her right now, though. Let her be happy about her brother._

Shaking his head in disbelief at the sheer capriciousness of fate, Link passed through the streets of Valhart, evading the celebrating villagers as best as he could, and went home to make preparations for his departure.


	3. Scavengers from the Desert

**Chapter 3: Scavengers from the Desert**

"It's been three days since we've seen someone move on the battlement," the young woman who was lying prone behind a low slope told her companion. "And nobody has left or entered the tower during that time. It's safe to say we can make our move now."

"You're right," the woman lying next to her agreed. "If they've entered the critical stage of the plague two days ago at the latest, they should either be dead or up and around by now. And since we haven't seen any sign of life, they're probably all dead." She rose and stretched her muscles, then wiped the dirt from her white trousers. "Let's go, Koume."

"Finally," Koume said as she jumped to her feet. "I was so very bored. Last to the gate is an old hag!" She darted off, her athletic body effortlessly carrying her over the short distance to the Hylian watch tower at the entrance to Gerudo Valley.

"Like I care," her sister Kotake called after her, and followed Koume at a deliberately slower pace. The sisters often quarreled about which one of them was older – or rather, who was younger – because their parents had never bothered to tell them which of the twins had been born first. Naturally, the difference could only amount to minutes at best, but it always made for an excellent argument.

_Just not right now_, Kotake thought, still tired from watching the tower during the previous night and for most of this day, taking over a shift for her sister who had gone who-knows-where. She was ready to fall asleep, not to run, but did not let her fatigue stop her: Even a thief of lesser skills than her would be able to rob the inhabitants of the tower blind while half-asleep. After all, they were all bound to be dead or at the least very close to death.

When Kotake arrived at the wooden door, Koume had already picked the lock.

"Too easy," she said. "A pretty pathetic lock for a tower."

"That's because we aren't even supposed to get close to the door, that with the guards on the battlement and all."

"It's not our fault they got the plague and died," Koume replied. "Look at us, we survived it, too!"

"It's because of the Hylians' pampered lifestyle," Kotake said as her sister swung open the door, its angles creaking. She seemed unwilling to go first.

"Age before beauty," she told her sister.

"I told you before," Kotake said as she strode past her sister across the threshold, "I'm not in the mood for this stuff today." She overlooked the tower's lowest room, which was full of crates and shelves which had to be inspected. She saw no Hylian soldiers, neither dead or alive or anything in between. "Come in, it's safe."

"I wasn't concerned about _that_. Do we split up?"

"No, I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Bah, afraid I'll steal more than you?"

"Let's just do this."

Koume nodded, and the Gerudo sisters began searching the room for anything valuable enough to take with them, mainly foodstuffs, but also weapons and utilities. Gold or rupees would be fine as well, but they did not expect to find much of that: Hylian soldiers stationed outside of towns or villages usually received their pay upon their return to Keeptown at the end of a tour. Since remote outposts such as this one relied on regular supply deliveries, their garrisons did not need any money to spend except for gambling, which was an activity their leadership wished to discourage. Regardless of that, for the perpetually struggling desert dwellers, even a crate of dried meat or a jug of water was as valuable as gold.

"Only useless junk here," Koume concluded after a thorough search, and the sisters climbed the spiral staircase to the tower's second story, which consisted of one big room housing the soldiers' beds. As they had expected, many of the beds were occupied by dead bodies, most covered up in blankets. Kotake sniffed the room's air.

"No stench yet. That means they can't have died too long ago."

Kotake walked up to one of the beds and pulled back the blankets. The dead soldier was young, as most Hylian recruits, and his face was the mess of burst pustules and coughed up black mucus she knew to be typical for victims of the plague. Not that many Gerudo had fallen ill, except for the ones who regularly left the desert, like Kotake and her sister. The forced isolation from the Hylians had worked in their people's favour for once. She checked the contents of his pockets, then forcefully turned the dead body around to reach the back pockets. Nothing.

"What are you waiting for, a special invitation?" she asked Koume, who was still standing on the stairs, watching her sister uneasily. "Help me search them!"

"Are you sure it's all right? Father always told us to respect the dead."

"And since when have we listened to him? Besides, these men can't do anything to us anymore, which is kind of the point of being dead. Or do you believe in ghosts?"

"Of course not," Koume replied. "I'd just... feel that we'd be like vultures."

"And?" her sister asked nonchalantly. "Vultures are smart animals. No reason to expend energy to kill something if you can just wait till it drops dead on its own."

"If you say so." Koume joined her sister in rummaging the dead soldiers, though she did not treat them quite as roughly. After searching the pockets of three soldiers and finding nothing, she came upon a corpse that had not been covered up and did not look quite as bad as the others. It also moved when she touched it.

Her sister's high-pitched shriek alarmed Kotake, who came running to her side immediately.

"What now?"

"This... this one isn't dead yet!"

Kotake was surprised, but after taking a look at the Hylian in question, she was forced to agree. The middle-aged soldier was definitely still breathing, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. If he took notice of the two thieves robbing his dead comrades, he did not show it.

"It looks like not all Hylian men are weaklings," Kotake admitted. "He's clinging to life longer than the average victim. But he's no threat in his condition. Just search him."

Koume did as she was told, though with some reluctance. After this incident, she anxiously inspected each dead soldier to see whether he was _really_ dead, and found two more that were still alive, though both closer to death than the first one. But neither the dead nor the living Hylians yielded anything of value, and she seemed relieved as they left the room.

"I hope we didn't catch anything from the live ones," Koume said to herself while climbing to the next story.

"Nonsense. We both had the plague and lived. You can't get it a second time."

"I _know_ that. But who knows what kind of other nasty stuff you might catch from a Hylian? I've never been that close to one before."

Kotake shrugged. "Can't be worse than the plague, can it?"

"That's true. But they're still nasty. Did you know they put their dead into the soil and let them rot? I mean, yuck! Burning the dead is just so much cleaner."

"They probably have their reasons," Kotake shrugged. "But I don't care to know them."

The sisters reached the third story, which, judging from the numerous weapon racks served as the tower's armoury. Koume checked the swords, but they were all of lesser quality compared to their Gerudo-made sabres. They also found several sets of Hylian mail armour, but using that in the blazing sun of the desert would have been inadvisable, so they left them behind. Kotake found a short dagger which she deemed acceptable and tucked it into her belt.

"Not a total waste, at least," she said as they left the room.

"How stupid, storing the heavy equipment up here, and not on the ground floor," Koume remarked. The sisters climbed up to what must be the final story, just below the battlement. Thankfully, it was the food storehouse.

"Finally we're getting somewhere," Koume rejoiced. "Let's bag as much as we can carry."

"Which could be more if we had some help," her sister replied flatly. "It's too bad the rest of our people prefer to take the high road to starvation instead of lending us a hand here."

"Yes, that's pretty dumb of them. But if we boast a little and tell them how tasty the stuff was, they might come around. Besides, we can always come back and get more until new soldiers come or the food goes bad."

"Somehow I doubt it's going to be tasty," Kotake sighed. "It's soldiers' food, after all. But I'm not picky."

She began decanting the clay jugs containing water into water skins which were easier to carry, while Koume grabbed an empty sack and filled it with anything edible that would not spoil soon. Once the two had burdened themselves with as much as they could carry, they began walking toward the staircase.

Then they heard the voices coming from below, and froze in their tracks.

"What... what's this?" Koume stuttered.

"They must be reinforcements. And so soon. Damn it! Stay here!" Kotake carefully put the sack containing the water skins to the ground, sneaked to the staircase without making a sound and looked down. Several healthy-looking Hylian soldiers – she counted three – were coming up the stairs from the second floor, obviously agitated. One of them planted himself on the steps on the third floor, while his comrades entered the armoury, returning scant seconds later with swords in hands, handing one over to the man who had stood watch. They were going up.

Kotake rushed back into the storeroom, cursing.

"Put it down and come with me," she snapped at her sister.

"What's going-?"

"Not now! To the battlement!"

Thankfully, Koume was disciplined enough to trust her sister without further questions and followed her up the stairs. The soldiers had almost reached the third floor, and shouted in outrage as they spotted the thieves, then threatened them with their swords and gave pursuit.

"How annoying," Koume griped as the sisters reached the battlement at the top of the tower. "Couldn't they have arrived five minutes later? Now we have to leave all the food behind! That is, if we even get down from here alive."

"Nonsense," her sister said, drawing her heavy twin sabres. "We just went up here so we had room to fight. Come on, ready your weapons!"

"But Kotake! The king's standing orders are that we mustn't hurt the Hylians!" Koume said. "And you know serious he's about that! He won't turn a blind eye to this!"

"If you don't tell him, I won't," Kotake said.

"But I don't want to kill them! I mean, stealing is one thing, but..."

"Remind me to slap that budding conscience of yours out of your skull one of these days," Kotake sighed. The soldiers had reached the battlement and stood before the Gerudo women, swords drawn, covering each other, slowly approaching their opponents.

"Surrender!" one of them demanded, "and you will only face the dungeon, not the gallow!"

Kotake ignored him. "Fine," she told Koume, "if you're so sensitive, we'll just disarm them and beat them silly, then grab the loot and run for it. How's that sound?"

"Like a plan." She, too, drew her weapons.

"Ha! You filthy thieves think you can beat us? The favour of the gods is with us! They haven't saved us from the plague to have us lose against the likes of you!"

For a second, Kotake was distracted by his words. "Do you mean to say that you're... ah, never mind!"

She launched herself at the soldiers, locking swords with one while trying to sweep another off his feet with a low kick. Koume reacted quickly and threw herself at the third Hylian, keeping him busy. The sisters put great stock in their fighting ability, often sparring for hours on end, and their skill outmatched that of the soldiers by far. Moreover, the soldiers' movements were strangely sluggish and clumsy, as though they had only now awoken from a deep sleep. Having to disarm them instead of killing them proved not much of a handicap, and after mere minutes, the three Hylians were lying unconscious atop their own tower, beaten and bruised, but not seriously harmed.

"You see? Easy." Kotake said dismissively. "No reason to panic. Now let's go before more of them show up."

Koume seemed genuinely relieved that they had been able to spare the Hylians and simply nodded. The twins sheathed her sabres and returned into the storeroom, where they picked up the sacks of food and water again. Koume left the room first, rushing down the staircase, but stopped when she saw Kotake hesitate and enter the room with the dead soldiers.

"What's up?" she asked. "You said we were in a hurry!"

"It was something he said," Kotake answered absent-mindedly and approached the beds, checking on the corpses lying there. Now it was her turn to be startled, for she found the beds where the three still living soldiers had rested empty.

"But that's impossible! They were almost dead... and the ones up there were completely healthy!"

Still, she had to admit the fact that the soldiers missing from here simply had to be the ones they had just fought on the top of the tower. Which meant that somehow, they had been cured from the plague in an instant. Which, she reiterated, was impossible.

"Are you coming?" Koume called from below. Kotake shook her head, took a deep breath and left the room, following her sister down to the ground floor. The soldiers must have been cured by some kind of magic – she remembered that the Hylians were skilled in these arcane matters, unlike the Gerudo – and put the thought aside for the moment. She could ponder it in more detail once they had made it back into the desert.

The twins had just left the tower grounds and were about to head into Gerudo Valley proper when a loud voice called out to them from beyond the tower, from Hyrule Field.

"Hey! Over there, you ladies! Wait a second, please!"

They stopped and looked behind them, wondering what kind of pursuer would _ask them nicely_ to wait. It was a lone man, presumably Hylian, running toward their position from the grassy plains at considerable speed. He was not a soldier, but wore a gaudy, red-and-white getup and a strange hat. The sisters looked at each other in astonishment, but decided to wait for the man; after all, he could not possibly be a threat to them. He quickly crossed the distance between them and came to an abrupt stop, panting heavily. Kotake now saw that he was wearing a red backpack over his shoulders, and that his hat was actually... a set of fake bunny ears?

"What do you want?" she asked brusquely, unwilling to be courteous to a Hylian, although the strange man who had approached them without fear had her intrigued. The man cleared his throat and talked.

"I carry an official missive from his majesty Artaxis I, the noble King of Hyrule, to be delivered personally to his majesty Garanth, the... uh... also noble king of the Gerudo tribe. You ladies look like Gerudo, yes? Could you tell me where I might find him? I've never been to the desert, you know."

"And you won't enter there," Koume said coldly. "You Hylians bar our way into your land wherever you can, so it's only fair that we won't let you in ours!"

Kotake nodded approvingly, relieved that her sisters' sympathies toward Hylians only extended so far as to not kill them.

The man looked at the sisters as though they had struck him.

"But... but I'm the mailman! If I can't deliver the mail, my reputation will be ruined! And it's a message from the king, of all things! Couldn't you... make an exception?"

"Show that message to me," Kotake demanded.

Eyeing her suspiciously, the mailman reached into his backpack, producing an adorned envelope with an elaborate seal stamped on it. Kotake could not tell, but Kotake assumed it was the seal of Hyrule's royal family. The mailman waved it back and forth in front of his face, apparently reluctant to let his valuable mail leave his hands.

"Don't you see?" he asked without giving up the letter. "It's very important that this letter reaches King Garanth! Very important... not that I've read it, or anything! Oh no, that would go against the Code of the Mailman! I beg of you, lead me to your king!"

Begging was good, as far as Kotake was concerned; she did not get to hear that often from Hylians. Still, there was no way she was going to embarrass herself in front of the king by taking this clown to him.

"If it's really that important," Koume said, "we can deliver the letter for you. If only because you've made me curious what's in there."

"N...no, that's not acceptable," the mailman answered, hiding the letter behind his back. "I must deliver it personally. In person, you see?"

"That's too bad," Koume shrugged. "Then the king will never get to see it. We're leaving now, and if we see you trying to sneak into the desert, we'll kill you."

_Weren't you dead set against killing Hylians five minute ago?_ Kotake wanted to ask, but realized in time that her sister was just trying to intimidate the man. And she succeeded, because he started sweating and shivering uncontrollably.

"K-K-Kill me? Oh, that's not good. I mean, of course it would be an honour for any mailman to die heroically in the line of duty, but... it's going to be a really sunny day, see? Not a good day to die at all!"

Koume held out her opened palm toward the mailman. "So... will you give it to us?"

The Hylian gulped, muttered something that sounded like "I'm sorry" to himself and handed the letter over to the Gerudo.

"Good," Koume said after taking it. "Now scram!"

"Please... please promise that you'll give it to him! And don't – DON'T open it! That's forbidden!"

"Yes, fine, I promise. Whatever." Koume waved the mailman away. "Now get going!"

The man gulped again, performed a bow, and ran back toward the green plains of Hyrule without looking back, his bunny ears waving in the wind.

"Why is he wearing these silly ears?" Koume asked her sister.

"Beats me."

"Maybe he thinks they make him faster?"

"Now that's just stupid." Kotake let out an exaggerated sigh, elbowing her sister in the side.

"What was that all about, anyway? Do you really want to deliver this stupid letter to the king?"

"Sure. It might actually _be_ important, you know."

Kotake threw her hands into the air. "Reduced from carrion birds to carrier pigeons. How far we've fallen." She snatched the letter from out of her sister's hand. "Let's at least take a look at it," she said, ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter.

Koume opened her mouth in protest, but closed it again without saying a word, since it would have come too late. Kotake, however, was disappointed when she found that the missive was written entirely in Hylian letters, which she could not read, and neither could her sister.

"How typical," she complained. "The King of Hyrule is so self-centred that he doesn't even realize no one in our tribe will be able to read it."

"I'm pretty sure there are some who can," Koume disagreed. "They'll be able to translate it for the king." She smiled evilly at her sister. "And by the way, have fun explaining to him why his very private letter has been ripped open!"

"What are you talking about?" Kotake asked, putting the letter back into Koume's hands before she could withdraw them. "You were the one who did that!"

Koume stared at the letter in her hand, then at Kotake, mouth agape.

"I hate you."

"I know, sister dear. It helps me sleep at night."


	4. Struggles of the Virtuous

**Chapter 4: Struggles of the Virtuous**

Even for a battle-hardened Goron like Kokron, the Fire Temple was an unnerving place: The countless flickering and crackling torches, the insidious bats nesting in dark corners of the ceiling, the omnipresent lava streams that would even kill a Goron within seconds should he be clumsy enough to fall into them, and strange rising and falling noises that sounded like chanting, coming from everywhere and nowhere: They all came together to make the temple a thoroughly unsettling and supremely dangerous place. And in spite of that, the worst was yet to come, Kokron knew as he approached the large door leading into the temple's central room. He knew what was waiting for him in there, and yet, he did not hesitate to force it open and stepped through it.

_If the Goddesses exist, _he thought, _they must have a a twisted sense of humour. First, they send the plague to Hyrule, and we Gorons rejoice when we find out that we're completely immune. And then, just so we could have our fair share of the dead, they send us this overgrown lizard! Praise be!_

However, Kokron did not personally believe that the Goddesses of the Hylians really existed, and thought of the plague's and the monster's arrival as a mere coincidence. And besides, he preferred an enemy made of flesh and blood that could be fought and killed to one that was invisible and preyed among the weak and bed-ridden.

The temple's central room was circular, as the survivors had described it, filled with lava and a big platform in the middle, with a bridge connecting the two. Calmly, preparing himself for what was to come, Kokron crossed the bridge and did not flinch as it crumbled behind him, leaving him trapped in the middle. If he survived the coming fight, he would find a way back, somehow. And if he lost, well... that would not be a problem anymore.

Many holes, some deep, others shallow, were spread out in irregular intervals across the platform. Skeletal remains were lying all over the place, a grim reminder not only of the warriors who had failed where Kokron would succeed, but also the monster's other, less prepared victims whom it had snatched before the temple had been considered off-limits for anyone but the reckless or the brave. Right now, Kokron could not say where the difference between the two lay, and readied himself for battle.

His presence in the cavernous room did not go unnoticed for long. After scarcely a minute, the entire room began trembling, and a hole in the ground burst open, revealing first an armoured head with small, vicious eyes, then a long, snake-like body covered with red, fiery scales that rose swiftly from the hole, ending in a pointed tail. The dragon roared as it left its subterranean tunnel, its small, useless claws swiping at Kokron. Of course the claws were not the real threat here; instead, he had to watch for the monster's sharp teeth and fire breath, at least if his preconceptions about dragons were correct.

Kokron took a deep breath, banished all fear from his mind and gripped tightly the enormous hammer that the King of Gorons had given him the day before. He had called it 'Megaton Hammer' (although, upon Kokron's inquiry, the king had been unable to tell him what exactly a 'megaton' was), and had been forged by the greatest Goron smiths as a weapon of last resort against the murderous dragon. Goron warriors far stronger and more experienced, not to mention in greater numbers than Kokron had perished in combat against the beast, and so had been tasked to try this new weapon. That was not so much because of his skill, but because he was one of the few Gorons left who did not flee in panic when the name of the serpentine creature that had taken up residence in the Fire Temple was mentioned.

_Volvagia, _he recalled it; a name taken from an ancient story about a dragon that feasted on disobedient Goron children. _When my mother tried to scare me with the stories about it, I used to laugh at her and told her dragons did not exist. Look's like I'm about to eat my words... or be eaten._

The dragon opened its mouth wide and breathed a cone of fire in Kokron's general direction. Goron's were highly resistant to heat, but he was unwilling to find out how long he could be exposed to the flames without serious injury, and ran away from the fire at a right angle. Volvagia's head turned and followed him, and his breath pursued Kokron for several seconds until it stopped. The dragon tried to burn the Goron repeatedly, but each time, it desisted after at most five seconds.

_So it can't keep the flame breath up for long,_ Kokron noted. _Good to know._

He waited until Volvagia exhausted its flame breath once again, then rushed toward the dragon as fast as he could. Rolling would have been faster, but what he planned required precision. He held the Megaton Hammer over his head, ready to smash the dragon's face, but his opponent reacted in time and forced him to retreat with a swift tail swipe that would have thrown him off his feet otherwise. He tried it again, only faster this time, but the dragon had learned: He used shorter, more controlled bursts of flame in order to keep Kokron at a distance. And since the Goron did not have and ranged weapons, the battle was effectively a stalemate until either side was exhausted. He had no way to gauge the dragon's stamina, but he would not bet his life on the hope that Volvagia would tire first.

_I'll have to try something else, even if it's risky._

Kokron slowly backed up to one of the holes in the ground and purposefully stepped into it, staggering, getting his feet stuck. He let himself fall, landing on his back and waved his arms and legs as he had once observed a bug doing, but did not drop his hammer. If the dragon did not fall for the trick, he would be seared by its flame and find out just how tough his Goron skin was. But if it did...

Volvagia roared in triumph and soared toward the Goron, its long tongue licking its mouth in anticipation of a meal.

_Good, you stupid beast,_ Kokron thought. _Come over here so I can kill you!_

The dragon reached him and opened its mouth wide, baring his predictably sharp teeth, which gave Kokron an idea. As he jumped to his feet, he brought the Megaton Hammer smashing down not on the dragon's protected head, but its mouth, and felt the breaking of many teeth with great satisfaction.

_You have feasted on Goron flesh for the last time, monster!_

Volvagia roared, this time in pain instead of triumph, and tried to back off, but Kokron would not let it get away: He struck the monster's mouth several times in a row, breaking most of the remaining teeth and finally the lower jaw. He was not the strongest Goron by a long shot, but strong enough to make Volvagia's head reel in pain, preventing any offensive move against him for the moment.

Kokron felt little sympathy for the beast that had killed many of his kinsmen, but he did not delight in torture, either, so he repeatedly bashed the dragon's skull with his hammer as hard as he could, straining his arm muscles with every hit. Volvagia proved its tenacity by struggling for a while, but after a dozen strong blows, the dragon simply stopped moving completely, its lifeless head hitting the ground with a thud.

_That was easier than expected_, Kokron thought._ This hammer truly is an amazing weapon._

After watching the monster's body for at least an hour while occasionally bashing it with the Megaton Hammer in order to make sure that it was well and truly dead, Kokron finally left the circular room via the bridge that had risen again after the dragon's death, not wasting much time to think about why and by whom such a mechanism had been constructed. He decided that the hammer was not his property, but rather a weapon to be used the next time the Gorons were threatened by evil, and left it behind in the temple, putting it into an empty wooden chest. Then he departed the temple, humming a melody from his childhood, already looking forward to his return to Goron City, where few probably expected him back alive, and so soon at that.

Kokron knew that modesty and humility were virtues praised all over the world, but he did not care greatly for either. In fact, he thought that a celebration in honour of his heroism would be highly appropriate, and hoped that the Goron King would show his gratitude by indulging him with a little fete. Or better yet, a big one.

* * *

"I can confirm that the plague vanished yesterday, my queen," the guard told Narala. "I've seen it with my own eyes! The sick and dying outside the perimeter suddenly were completely healed, within the blink of an eye. And messengers confirmed that the same happened in Hyrule Keep and the town as well. I truly believe it is safe now to allow travel in and outside of our domain again."

The Zora Queen attentively listened her subordinate's words, although she had heard the same report several times over the last twenty-four hours. Shifting her weight on the ever uncomfortable throne that had been built for rulers larger than her, she waited until the guard had finished and considered his words.

Many of her advisors had been urging her ever since the miraculous curing of the plague to open the borders to Zora's Domain, now that this reverse quarantine of sorts had served its purpose. The entire Zora populace in Hyrule had been pent up within the confines of Zora's Domain for two months now, and her people's patience seemed at an end. Of course any one of them was allowed to leave as they wished, just not to return after setting foot outside of the clean zone, and apparently, few wanted to take that risk without the queen's formal assurance that everything was going to be all right.

Narala suppressed an unbecoming sigh. In truth, ruling over her people was much more exhausting than she had first expected when she had become queen after her mother's death two years ago. The people held her to very high standards, but were at the same time unwilling to do much in return to aid her. Not that this would stop her from fulfilling her duty, or even make her utter so much as a complaint, but it could be frustrating at times like these.

"Thank you for your report," Narala told the guard, who saluted but did not leave, unsure whether or not he had been dismissed.

_Or perhaps he's simply waiting for me to make a decision about opening the perimeter._

The queen ignored him for now, unwilling to rush to a decision because of an impatient subordinate. Weighing all arguments one last time, she concluded that it was now safe to allow normal travel and traffic with the rest of Hyrule. She did not know how the plague could have been healed so suddenly, lending little credence to the theory of 'divine intervention' talked about by some. But the results were the same, regardless of the why, and far too many guards and advisors had confirmed the story for her to disbelieve it. Narala could have ventured outside to the border of Zora's Domain and seen it for herself, but she preferred to make decisions without the undue influence of personal impressions and feelings, having her subordinates report to her.

_Still, I should get outside more_, she thought. _I haven't even seen the sky in days. Or was it weeks?_

"I hereby decree that our borders be opened again," Narala finally told the guard, who ran off immediately to deliver the good news, and satisfied murmurs arose immediately among her advisors around the throne. The old court chronicler hurried to record her decree for posterity, not that posterity would much care about the exact wording. Some court members began clapping in a non-committal manner, unsure whether others would join them, but when they did, Narala's decision was acknowledged with wide applause. Trying to come up with a way to properly react to this rare show of gratitude, the Zora Queen bid them be silent and said:

"Many of you have suffered from being constricted to the small space of our domain. The Zora are a free people, and should travel the waterways of the land unhindered, you said. Please know that I did what I had to do to keep all of you safe in the face of the terrible plague. To reward your patience and obedience, you may leave court today and go outside. You can continue your various tasks tomorrow."

Again applause arose, this time more natural and enthusiastic, and within minutes, the throne room was completely devoid of Zora other than the queen and her personal guard, who were chosen for loyalty and the ability to suffer discomfort without complaints. Narala was not unhappy herself about her decision to let them go, because it would afford her valuable time to catch up on her reading. She was about to withdraw into her private chambers when two guards re-entered the throne room, accompanied by the familiar sight of the Hylian mailman. He was usually entrusted with delivering diplomatic messages safe the most secret ones and thus well-known at all of Hyrule's courts.

"Greetings, Queen Narala," he said and performed a clumsy bow, his bunny ears jiggling. "I bring several letters from the Keep, including one from his majesty, King Artaxis."

Narala bade the man approach her, and the mailman handed over three letters, two of them bearing the seal of Hyrule's royal family, one the sign of the Sheikah people.

"Unless you are directed to return at once," she told the mailman, "I would ask that you stay here for a while, in case one of the letters demands an immediate answer."

"Of course," the Hylian answered, and bowed once more. "It's good to be delivering mail to civilized people again," he said happily to himself as the guards escorted him into the antechamber.

Narala opened the letters and quickly scanned their contents. The first one was sent by King Artaxis and formally informed her that the plague had been lifted from Hyrule as a result of 'divine intervention' (she raised an eyebrow when she read that part) and requested the re-opening of the waterways leading past Zora's Domain. Of course his request was now moot, and so Narala put the letter aside..

The second letter been written by Princess Zelda, who had written Narala several times over the past months, requesting permission to visit her court and study Zora culture and history. The Hylian princess was well-known for her ability to soak up knowledge like a sponge soaked up water, and since she was only second in the line of succession, her father often allowed her to go on extended travels to increase her knowledge. Narala had never met her, but was looking forward to meeting the supposedly very bright young woman in the near future.

The third letter had been sent by an old friend: Arnu, an aged and learned sage from the Sheikah tribe who was one of Hyrule's Seven Sages, and it was the only letter whose contents displeased her.

_Narala, be advised that Queen Vera passed away yesterday around noon. The king will not mention it in his official missive because he considers this a private matter. _

_I happen to disagree, as you well know. Your refusal to let our sick (and I'm not just talking about the queen here, she's just a prominent example) visit the curative springs that are part of your domain, in spite of all my begging letters, has disappointed me greatly. _

_I understand your wish to protect your race, but you should consider that solidarity is a two-way-street. Some day, circumstances may force you to walk down this street yourself, but you may find your road barred then by those whose earlier distress you ignored._

_Arnu._

It was only because she had known and respected Arnu for at least a decade that Narala allowed the sage to address her in this tone, and even then only in writing. Of course she had read her pleading letters, weighted with stones and thrown over the perimeter of Zora's Domain by messengers who were not allowed inside. She had explained her reasoning in her replies in great detail, telling Arnu that her own kind had to come first, and that the evidence for the healing properties of said curative springs was sketchy at best.

Of course Narala knew that Arnu, as all Sheikah, served as the protectors of Hyrule's royal family, and could emphasize with how frustrating it must have been for her to watch the queen die while doing nothing. But she could not have risked the safety of her people, who were, as a general rule, particularly vulnerable to Hylian diseases, by exposing them to an epidemic. That decision had been correct, and although it had brought conflict with an old friend, that was a price she had willingly – though not gladly – paid.

_She should follow the example of her king and princess, neither of whom even mentioned the Queen's passing in their letters,_ Narala thought. _Those two know that sometimes, bad things happen to good people for no discernible reason. No king or queen can govern without first accepting this basic fact, or misplaced guilt would drive them mad._

It was not that Narala was without emotions: She truly regretted the countless Hylian deaths brought about by the plague. But there was nothing that could have been done. That was how the world worked.

The queen wanted to call her scribe in order to dictate her replies, but remembered that the old man, too, had left the throne room with her permission. Considering that none of the letters demanded an urgent answer, she told one of the remaining guards to send the mailman back to Hyrule with her gratitude and withdrew to her chambers for the rest of the day.

* * *

After pursuing the retreating Moblins for the during the day before and the entire night that had followed, Darion was itching to finally cross swords with them. The brutes had shown their respectable stamina, keeping their distance from the prince and his small band of soldiers as long as they had, but now the Hylians had caught up with them in a small grove at the base of the northern mountains.

The Moblins had lost about half of their original numbers during their attack on the North Garrison, and, in no hurry to face his father after his thoughtless remark, Darion had spontaneously decided to pursue them. He had taken a third of the stationed forces with him, hoping to capture the Moblins' leader and find out about their plans, or at least thin out their numbers a little. Of course this little expedition of his had been completely unauthorized by his father, but he would worry about that when the time came. Right now, he was leading half of his men in a circle around the grove, while the other half awaited his signal to attack the unsuspecting and exhausted Moblins from both sides.

"Stay right here," Darion whispered to the soldiers following behind him, "I'm going to scout ahead."

He did not stay to listen to their inevitable protests about how the crown prince should not be putting himself in danger, but simply sneaked into the grove. He avoided loose branches and other obvious sources of sound, and soon his nose told him that the Moblins were nearby. His eyes confirmed his nose's findings, and Darion saw the surviving pig men resting in a clearing, some sitting, others lying.

One of the Moblins, who was taller than all others and who was the only one to wear a heavy suit of plate armour, was currently chewing out two of his ilk, his voice low, but fierce. His size, his armour and his intimidating behaviour immediately marked him as the leader of the raiding group. Darion did not understand his guttural language, but there was no need for that: He now knew where the Moblins were, and that most of them were not ready for combat.

The prince silently retreated back to his soldiers, who were relieved to see him unharmed, and told them what he had observed. Then he had one of the men shoot a searing arrow into the sky, which signalled the other half of his troops to charge into the grove. Darion waited for half a minute until the unmistakable sounds of men clashing with monsters reached his ears, then commanded the soldiers around him to attack, hoping to crush the Moblins in between the two groups.

The Hylian soldiers advanced hastily, eager to overtake their prince and at least put some room between him and the Moblins. Darion appreciated the notion, but he was a skilled sword fighter and would not be marginalized. As his men attacked the monsters, who rose up and grabbed their weapons with joyful howls, he singled out the armour-plated one and engaged him in a duel. The Moblin, who was at least two heads taller than the prince, did not hesitate to thrust his long spear at him and almost impaled Darion on his first attack.

_I'm obviously lacking practice_, the prince found and resolved not to make a fatal mistake. He counterattacked several times, but the Moblin leader was surprisingly nimble in spite of his imposing size.

"Oh, you made a big mistake," the Moblin grunted between two thrusts of his spear, again surprising Darion, this time with his command of the Hylian common language. "You ran after us all the way. You must be sooo tired." The monster grinned and almost caught Darion's foot with his spear. "Now you can die tired."

Talking during a fight was not something his instructors had recommended, but Darion wanted to answer anyway, if only to try and provoke the enemy, to get him to lower his guard.

"You brutes must also be tired," Darion told the Moblin, who parried a glancing blow with his spear, both shaft and head made from iron. The weapon must be very heavy, but the brute wielded it with great ease. "More tired than us, in fact, because you carry so much fat around."

"Don't try funny," the Moblin said, far from enraged and, in fact, amused. "You're bad at funny. I can tell already."

One of his men screamed in pain somewhere to Darion's right, skewered by a Moblin's spear. As far as the prince could tell, he was their first casualty; on the other hand, at least two Moblins had already gone down, never to rise again. Their leader used a short pause in Darion's attacks to bark a command, and his monsters adjusted their fighting style, moving closer to each other to avoid being surrounded.

_It's clear who is the brains of this outfit, _Darion thought and slowly backed away from the clearing in the hope that the Moblin leader would follow him and his minions suffer in coordination as a result. Without hesitation, the monster took the bait and pursued Darion, brandishing his spear.

"They can handle it," he said, obviously aware that Darion was leading him away. "They fight good." He grinned. "Most of them."

"Why, you really are smart, for a brute."

The Moblin spat on the ground, parrying several of Darion's strikes.

"We're not different. You think you're so smart because you live in a stone keep. But we are just like you. Just as smart."

"Shut up!" Darion yelled. "You are nothing like us! Your kind attack and kill innocent civilians all the time!"

"Not today," the Moblin leader had the gall to point out. "Today we feel like fighting."

"You _feel_ like fighting?" Darion was appalled, although he should not have been surprised – monster were monsters, after all. "So you fight for no real reason at all!" he concluded while pounding on the Moblin's plate armour.

"Sometimes we have a reason. Sometimes not." The Moblin grinned. "Just like you."

"We never fight without a reason!" Darion realized that his enemy was simply trying to make him angry and careless, just like he originally had tried to do to him. But he would not brook this monster mocking him and continued to attack with measured, well-aimed strikes, but to no avail.

"Then why are you here?" the Moblin asked, as if to prove him wrong. "Why follow us so far?"

"Because I'm the prince, and it's my duty to keep the people safe from your ilk!"

All the talking while fighting began to take its toll on Darion. He had not been in a real fight for months, and the Moblin leader had more endurance than him. He would have to finish this before he would become too exhausted, and without any more words. The conversation was going nowhere, anyway.

"So, you're the little prince? The future king?" the Moblin leader asked and laughed. "I tell you a secret: I'm already king! The Moblin King!"

_So you are the infamous Unthok? Excellent. If I present father with your head, he will be sure to forgive my rash words!_

In spite of that revelation, Darion did not waste his precious breath for more words. His opponent had no such concerns, though, and continued.

"Your father is healthy? He hasn't got the plague? He's taking his time with dying?" The Moblin King's next thrust again missed Darion and hit a tree, forcing him to pull the tip out fast as the prince used the opportunity to attack.

_Where is he going with this? What does he know about father?_

"Is the waiting making you mad? Why not speed things up? Become king sooner!"

"How dare you!" Unthok's words had hit their mark, making Darion recall yesterday's slip of the tongue when he had wished – no, _said_ that he wished – his father's life to end soon.

"Can't do it yourself, of course. Too dangerous. Want me to do it? I like to help people. Just bring him here at night and-"

"SHUT UP!"

Reason surrendered to fury, and Darion threw himself at the Moblin King, hacking away at him with no regard for his own safety. He was _not_ trying to kill his father, damn it, even though the king had neglected his duty in a horrendous manner and allowed countless of his loyal subjects to die horribly.

Darion's fury subsided as fast as it had come, forced out by exhaustion. He could not keep it up anymore, and disengaged, content to see that he had at least wounded his enemy. But the Moblin King did not seem to mind the cut on his left knee very much. He simply looked at the prince, an elated smile over his piggish face.

"You're strong. You have potential. But could be much stronger. Should fight more often."

"Just shut up," Darion whispered meekly.

Before the Unthok could continue insulting him, a Hylian soldier came running from the main battle site, calling out to Darion. He saw the Moblin King and eyed him with caution and disgust while addressing the prince.

"Prince Darion! A messenger from King Artaxis just arrived! We're ordered to return to the Keep at once, and that we would delay on the pain of death!"

Darion stared at the messenger with his mouth wide open. He should have expected to be recalled at some point, but the wording of the message was just a tad extreme. Then again, he had pulled thirty men away from guarding the portal to the Triforce's land, without authorization. He gulped. Maybe that had not been such a good idea after all.

"We're done here," Darion replied unnecessarily. "Tell the men to withdraw and regroup. We return as soon as we can."

The soldier nodded, eyeing the Moblin King suspiciously. "What about the monsters?"

"Oh, it's all right, you can go," Unthok said, waving his hand as if he was giving them his leave. He shouted out several words in his language, and moments later, the rest of his Moblins crushed through the underbrush and assembled around him.

"You get free passage. Because I like you, strong little prince."

Darion did not know what to answer and said nothing; instead, he followed the soldier back to the clearing. He saw five of his men dead, and at least as many wounded. He did not even bother to check on the Moblins' casualties. No matter how many they killed, the impassable mountains in the north always spewed out new monsters.

"You fought well," Darion told his men, feeling obligated to give them at least this tiny sliver of praise after removing them from their posts and dragging them along on his foolish hunt. "We will bury our fallen here, as fast as we can while staying within the bounds of what is proper. Then we'll march south, back to the garrison, where you will resume your stations. From there on I'll continue straight to the Keep. Should anybody blame you for abandoning your post there, direct them to me instead; I will take responsibility."

The soldiers nodded, relieved that at least they would not get into trouble for the prince's reckless enterprise. Still, it would take them a day to reach their destination, and another day and a half for Darion to reach the Keep from there; unless his father's party had left him one of the horses, which he doubted.

Either way, all of them were already tired and had only more marching to look forward to. Discouraged and dejected, they dug four shallow graves at the edge of the grove and buried their fallen comrades after saying a short prayer. Their somber task completed, the Hylian soldiers left the grove and began their long, silent march back to where they had come from.


	5. A Slightly Crazy Idea

**Chapter 5: A Slightly Crazy Idea**

Link had always known that becoming a soldier was no easy feat and that he would have to sacrifice many of the things he held dear to become one. Such as his favourite green clothes and hat, which one of the outfitters at Keeptown's barracks had just judged unacceptable for a soldier.

"Uniformity is the foundation for an army's team spirit!" the short man with thinning grey hair told him indignantly. "Do you want to stand out from the other recruits? Think you are better than them? Think the uniform makes you look fat?"

"It's not like that," Link defended himself. "It's just that green is my favourite colour."

"Oh that's just great, recruit," the outfitter snarled behind his counter, while the other would-be soldiers waiting in line behind Link to get their uniforms were growing impatient.

"Try to think here for a moment, will you? If we give anybody special treatment, no matter why, next thing we know, everybody else wants to wear their own damn pyjamas while soldiering! There's no way you're wearing that stupid hat on my watch!"

"There's a solution to that," Link pointed out, trying to pull the man's strings some more. "Just have everybody else wear the same clothes as me! Not only are they very comfortable, it's also impossible to notice grass stains!"

Several of the Hylians behind him laughed at that last remark, which only served to further aggravate the outfitter.

"You will wear the standard uniform and you will like it," he snapped at Link and handed a set of mail armour and a white tunic over to him, determined to brook no further objections. "Next one!"

Link shrugged and moved on. He had not expected to be allowed to wear his usual clothes, which was a pity, but could not be helped; he would certainly keep them around, though, to wear them off-duty. He moved along the counter to the next outfitter who was handing out swords and shields. He was tall with a great girth and a friendly face, and had watched the exchange between his colleague and Link with amusement.

"Lots of swords to pick from, 'cause of all the soldiers who died from the plague. They won't need them no more, right?"

This was the first time Link had been reminded of the plague since leaving Valhart three days ago, and he did not reply immediately, recalling the faces of his parents with perfect clarity. His thoughts drifted off, and he wondered how long he would be able to remember them like this. Sooner or later, he might even forget what they had looked like in the first place. He hoped that would not happen.

"What's the matter?" the outfitter interrupted him, and Link realized that he was slowing things down again, standing there, staring off into the air.

_I should really stop doing this,_ he told himself. _Wouldn't do to freeze at a bad moment. Let the past be the past._

"Well, I've already got a sword," he told the man.

"Oh yes? Show me."

He removed his sword from its sheath and put it on the counter. The outfitter whistled, lifted it up and inspected it, his eyes almost gleaming.

"That's a great piece of work you got there. Where'd you get it from?"

"The blacksmith from my village made it. Saw me playing with a wooden sword and said I needed something more proper."

"He's quite a craftsman," the outfitter complimented, handing Link back the sword. "This is as good as any sword I could give you. Not that they're bad, mind you. Is that smith still alive?"

Link shook his head.

"The plague."

"Ah, I see. Well, anyway, you keep that one. No sense in having you train with a weapon you're not used to."

"Why, thank you," Link said. "But what about uniformity?" he added with a grin, and the outfitter responded by rolling his eyes.

"The instructor won't give a damn about that. Only he will," he pointed at his colleague, "and you won't be seeing him again, anyway, unless you ruin your uniform. Though in that case, he's definitely going to chew you out, so just don't ruin your uniform."

The men in line behind him were complaining again about Link delaying everyone, and he decided to get a move on.

_No point in becoming unpopular on my first day here if I can help it, right?_

In his hurry, Link almost forgot to take one of the wooden shields and had to go back to get one. It was adorned with the crest of the royal family – some unidentifiable bird and three triangles – and was rimmed with iron; it was bound to be much more durable than the shield he had carved for himself years ago back in the village.

After being provided with their basic equipment, the perhaps two dozen recruits were shown to their quarters inside the barracks, which were as small and cramped as Link had expected. After lying down on one of the bunk beds for a minute, he could already tell they were going to be hell on his back.

But Link was prepared to face harsh living conditions as long as he got to do something useful. He had always been good at swordplay, having often ventured into the fog-ridden glades south of Valhart village, acting as an escort for villagers cutting peat for their fires. Many strange and dangerous creatures lived there, often driving away the villagers, causing many a cold winter's night, and Link had been one of the few people capable of fending them off. But beyond this and feeding the animals on his parents' farm, he had never been able to contribute much to the village's welfare. He hoped that joining the Hylian army would give him an opportunity to put his abilities to good use and improve on them.

_And perhaps some excitement, too. If that's not too much to ask._

The recruits were not given much time to settle in and were told to assemble for a roll call in the barracks' courtyard within ten minutes, so they quickly changed into their uniforms and assembled where they were supposed to. There were no instructors or officers yet, so they simply lined up next to each other and waited.

Judging from the clothes they had worn before changing, Link assumed that most of the recruits came from the small peasant villages like Valhart that were littered all over Hyrule field. The traveled Doctor Pallum had once told him that most Hylian soldiers came from the countryside, while the inhabitants of Keeptown usually learned a craft or trade, leaving them little time to waste in the barracks and on the exercise fields. However, Link could only deduce the other recruits' origins, since none of them were at all talkative. None of them knew each other yet, and presumably, nobody wanted to say something stupid and draw the ridicule of his comrades.

_Hooray for self-confidence_, Link thought. Then he realized that he, too, was not exactly striking up conversations, and stuffed his sarcasm while he waited.

After a few minute of wordlessly standing in a line, a tall and powerfully-built man entered the courtyard from a building in front of them and strode toward the recruits. It was obvious to anyone that this was not an ordinary instructor: He wore white plate armour that sparkled in the afternoon sun and had an enormous greatsword slung over his back. He planted himself right before the recruits, inspecting them with a critical gaze, and his regal demeanour made Link think him a prince or king. Then he remembered what doctor Pallum had told him about the royal family; that the prince was a young man and the king old and long since turned grey. The man before them was middle-aged, perhaps forty years old, and his shortly-cropped hair was black.

"I am General Thallius," he introduced himself, "Commander of the Knights of Hyrule. His majesty King Artaxis asked me to give a short introductory speech to the new recruits. Well, here I am. Ahem." He cleared his throat. "It's just that I'm no good at speeches. I'm good at stabbing things, though."

His last remark met with good-natured laughter from the recruits, including Link, which seemed to break the ice a little bit.

_That was probably the intended effect._

"Now, to get serious," Thallius continued and raised one of his large hand's. "I don't have to tell anyone of you about the plague, since I'm sure you have all had painful experiences because of it. This plague has cut through the ranks of our soldiers like a scythe through a field of grain." The general hesitated and rubbed his chin. "Was that a bad metaphor?"

_I would think so, yes._

"Anyway, it means that in this critical time, when the people struggle to recover from a terrible scourge, they need our protection more than ever. Moblins and all kinds of dangerous critters are always active around our borders, and sadly, thieves and cutthroats will take this opportunity to prey upon the weak more than they already do. Those will be your enemies, gentlemen – monsters, and people who have become monsters."

Thallius paused for a moment and let his gaze travel along the line of recruits. Link liked to think that the general's eyes remained on him a little longer than on the others, but that was probably just baseless conceit. He was a rather conceited person, or at least Kari had once told him so. Then again, she might have been joking – who ever knew that with girls, anyway?

"As for large-scale military actions," Thallius continued, "you all know that Hyrule is a small kingdom compared to our neighbours, and we avoid fighting wars whenever we can. You'll probably never see as many soldiers assembled in one place as during your training, because most of you will be deployed in small village garrisons and watch towers. So, if anyone is looking for fame, they should probably reconsider."

Nobody did reconsider, or at least nobody gave any signs of doing so. Thallius nodded, satisfied, and continued his speech, which Link thought was not nearly as bad as he had announced – in fact, he had feared that the general would ramble about the glory of war.

"Here you will be taught when to fight, how to fight, and hopefully, how to win," the Knight Commander continued. "You won't see much of me around here – I can see you're all devastated – because the knights have their own separate barracks, being the elitist jackasses that we are. But you should be in capable hands soon enough." He paused, perhaps ordering his thoughts or just looking for something to say. He did not seem to find it.

_Should be?_ Link wondered. _I hope that was a slip of the tongue._

"Well, that's about everything from me," the general said and scratched his head. "Any questions?"

A couple of mock-questions were asked about how much they were going to be paid or when they would get their first day off, but Thallius waved those away without comment. After several seconds of silence, a red-haired recruit on Link's left side cautiously lifted his hand.

"Yes?"

"Sir Thallius, how... how does one become a knight?"

"You know how they say that there are no stupid questions?" Thallius leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone: "_They_ are wrong."

"Uh..." The recruit looked at his feet, his face beet red, and Link felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"No, no," Thallius said hastily, "that wasn't a stupid question. I was just saying. Ahem." He cleared his throat again. "In order to become a knight, you must prove that your skill as well as your virtue in combat goes above and beyond the average soldier's. Not to belittle the average soldier, but... never mind that."

"So we have to do something heroic?"

Thallius sighed theatrically, taking on a lecturing tone.

"Young soldiers wanting to be 'heroic' often means big trouble for everyone. It's almost never one grand, heroic deed that leads to being knighted. You have to demonstrate bravery and ability over a long period of time, and if you do that, it is likely to be recognized. Think of the knights as the best of the best... no, wait, that's too boastful. Just the best, that will do." The general nodded, pleased with this display of modesty. "But you must learn to crawl before you walk, so put the whole knight thing out of your head for the next fifteen years or so."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"No need. As I said, it wasn't a stupid question. I'd tell you if it was one. Well, anything else?"

Link wondered for a moment whether he should ask something, but he really could not think of anything right now, at least of nothing that was likely to satisfy the general's condition of not being stupid. Another recruit lifted his hand, and Thallius nodded.

"Sir, when do we learn how to fight?"

"Careful, son," Thallius said and put on what Link assumed was his best scowl, "that one was dangerously close to the stupid-question-threshold. Learning how to fight isn't something that's over and done with after a certain period of time. You always learn, you always improve, even my humble self. But since you're probably asking about basic training... well, why don't you start right now and try to take out the shady-looking character that's sneaking around behind you?"

The recruits turned around like one man, and Link saw that the Knight Commander had not simply tried to scare them: There really _was_ a black-clad man standing several feet behind them, his face hidden under a featureless black mask with holes only for his mouth and his red eyes. He was not much taller than Link, who was of average size himself, but looked muscular and lithe, and he was heavily armed: A long, slim sword was sheathed at his right side, two nasty-looking curved daggers were fastened to his belt, and a crossbow was slung over his back

_And those are only the weapons you can see at first glance_, Link thought. _I would not want to meet that fellow in a dark alley. He looks like the worst kind of assassin._

Although Thallius had given away his presence, the man did not move but continued to stand there, watching the line of recruits. In spite of the general's suggestion, none of them made a move toward him, which seemed to irk Thallius. "You, first from the left!" he bellowed. "Attack him, that's an order!"

The general's commanding voice overrode whatever instincts of self-preservation the young man might have had, and he rushed the black-clad figure with clenched fists as though he was entering a bar brawl. His opponent did not draw a weapon, but simply sidestepped the clumsy attempt to knock him out and hit the recruit's neck with the edge of his hand, sending him collapsing to the ground.

"Stay down!" Thallius shouted unnecessarily. "Next one! And use your sword, for god's sake!"

Link was the third recruit from the right, so he got to watch as his comrades attacked the assassin one after the other, each of them being dispatched in quick succession. All of them charged him with their swords drawn, and all of them were quickly disarmed and sent to the ground. A few of them even managed to come close to hitting him, and their blows were parried by one of his daggers.

One by one, the attacking recruits were taken out, with General Thallius occasionally reminding them to stay down, while the black-clad man merely took a few steps aside now and then so his opponents would not pile up around him. Fortunately for them (and no doubt deliberately), the mysterious fighter awaited them on a grassy area, not the courtyard's pavement, which probably helped to prevent some bloodied skulls.

_It's really not fair,_ Link thought as the number of soldiers in the line dwindled. _Most of them have probably never held a sword before, and this man is obviously highly-trained. I should fare a bit better, though. Too bad he's not even using his sword, or I could observe his fighting style._

"Next one!" the merciless voice of General Thallius reached Link's ear. The recruit right next to him drew his sword and ran towards the assassin, and soon after joined his comrades on the ground.

"Next one!"

_My turn. Let's see how I compare._

Most of the other recruits had not even used their shields, holding their swords in two hands instead, not that it had availed them much. Link, however, raised his shield in front of him and drew his sword, since that was the fighting style he was used to. Instead of wildly swinging his sword like those before him, he simply ran straight toward the black-clad man and tried to hit his chest with the shield. The other fighter realized Link's intention in time and tried to dodge, but the shield still hit the arm that held the dagger, sending it flying. The assassin did not try to recover it, nor use the other one, but drew his sword instead, recognizing Link as an enemy he had to take seriously.

"Good," he said, and the muffled voice under the mask sounded surprisingly young. "I was getting bored."

The assassin executed several heavy blows from above his head, each hitting Link's shield hard, making his hands vibrate from the force brought to bear. Link tried to hit him with the flat side of his sword, but this required him to swing it in an unfamiliar way, and his opponent had fast reflexes, so none of his strikes connected. If he had attempted a lethal blow, he might have been more successful, but this man was obviously not really an assassin, but an instructor of some sort, and Link did not want to go all out in a training fight. Then again, if his opponent had similar scruples, he did not show them, for several of his vertical strikes almost drew blood.

_It has to be an exercise, _Link tried to reassure himself. _Or else the general would not just stand there and watch._

His blows, even if none of them connected, still pushed the other swordsman back several paces, and he suddenly stepped on the leg of one of the defeated recruits, losing his balance. When he bent forward in an attempt to restore it, his throat came close to the tip of Link's sword. Unable to stop the arc of his weapon and unwilling to kill his opponent, Link chose to let go of the hilt rather than risk the man's life and bashed him with his shield instead. He fell down, but performed a swift backwards somersault and was back to his feet before Link knew it, pointing his long blade at Link's chest above the shield.

"Yield!" he hissed.

Link rolled his eyes, dropped the shield and put his hands up, waving them back and forth in exaggeration. The disappointed moaning around him made him realize only now that his comrades had been cheering for him during the fight, which he had to admit was a good feeling..

"Why didn't you go for the throat when you had the chance?" his opponent's soft voice asked.

"That was way past the stupid-question-threshold," Link sneered, effecting several laughs. "Because I would have been in big trouble if I'd killed you?"

"I could have dodged it. It was planned, after all," came the arrogant reply.

"I'm not so sure about that..." Link said, and two furious red eyes glared at him from the mask slits.

"What are you implying?"

"That you're being dishonest," Link said, choosing his words with care – provoking the man and starting a real fight was decidedly not within his interests.

"Bah, you just don't have what it takes!" the swordsman in black dismissed him, but still continued to stare at him, as if he was considering the proper reaction to Link's irreverence.

"Drop it, both of you!" said General Thallius, who had appeared behind the two at some point. Link hated the way he phrased his command, because it made it sound that both sides were equally at fault, which was clearly not true in this case. But he already knew better than to argue with a superior, and said nothing more. The black-clad man did the same, although he still gave Link a condescending look.

"All of you, back in line," Thallius ordered. "That will be enough. Ashra, you are dismissed. Well done."

Link, as well as the others, returned to their positions, while the black-clad man left the courtyard at the opposite end without looking back.

"Thanks, man," the recruit right next to Link whispered, clearly not unhappy that he had been left out. "Without you, I would have been the next to eat dirt."

"You're welcome," Link replied, and his attention returned to Thallius.

"The young gentleman who was nice enough to introduce the lot of you to the local humus is named Ashra," the general said. "He's a Sheikah Elite who has recently completed his training and was sitting around twiddling his thumbs waiting for action, so I had him come here for a little object lesson."

Link lifted his hand. Thallius saw it, but did not bid him speak.

"Of course some of you might wonder what the point of this lesson was. Might complain that 'this wasn't even close to a fair fight'. Isn't that right?" He looked at Link, and Link nodded.

"In that case, you'd be completely missing the point of this lesson. Which wasn't to gauge your fighting skills – most of you don't have any, and that's fine, because we'll teach you – but to show you that a fight is often swift, brutal, and over before you know it. Some of the foes you'll be facing will be weaker than Ashra was, others stronger, and only the gods can say which ones you'll meet. If you still want to reconsider, this is your last opportunity."

But whether due to peer-pressure or self-confidence, none of the recruits left. Thallius nodded in approval.

"In that case, go back to your quarters and take a break until you get new orders. That is all."

_That's it already? We haven't even started yet! _

_And I just got into the mood..._

Most of the other recruits seemed relieved to get a break after this rough introduction to the world of combat and departed toward the barracks. Link was just about to join them when the general called him out.

"Halt, you. Yes, the blond one with the custom sword. I'll have a talk with you."

Link stopped as ordered, wondering what this was going to be about. The two last soldiers passing him gave him encouraging looks, apparently thinking that he was about to be commended for his performance, but Link was not so sure about that. He watched Thallius approach him and looked to the ground, slightly nervous.

_How stupid. He's going to tell me to look at him while he's talking to me, anyway_, he chided himself, looked up again and met the general's gaze. They were now completely alone in the barracks' courtyard.

"At ease, recruit. What's your name?"

"Link."

"Link? What kind of name is – sorry, never mind that. Do you know why I am here today, Link?"

_Where is he going with that?_

"Because the king told you so. That's what you said, at least."

"Correct. He told me to because I wasn't supposed to come here at all. You see, the instructor who was supposed to be here in my stead was apparently caught up in a bizarre accident involving... anyway, he's got three broken limbs, and won't be teaching you anything for a while."

"But you won't be his replacement," Link said. "Because you said we wouldn't be seeing much of you around here."

"Ah, a Hylian who uses his ears to listen. How rare."

Still unsure whether the general was mocking or complimenting him, Link simply nodded, prompting him to go on.

"I was planning on picking a qualified officer this afternoon and appoint him as temporary instructor – not that there are many to choose from, mind you, because the plague has thinned out their numbers pretty badly. But your performance just now gave me a crazy idea, and my crazy ideas got me all the way up to general, so I've come to trust them."

After saying that, the general simply looked at Link for several seconds, making him feel as if he was supposed to say something.

"Your idea, Sir?" he asked.

"You can't tell?"

"I wouldn't presume to."

"Heh." Thallius smirked. "Look, I don't have to tell you that you're pretty good. Your style looks self-taught. Am I right?"

"Mostly, Sir."

"But that wasn't just training, you have battle experience, too. Bandits?"

"Monsters, Sir. Peahats, Bulblins, Like-Likes, and the like."

Thallius raised his eyebrows.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Few sixteen year olds take on a Like-Like and return in one piece. Well, maybe as a piece of half-digested jelly."

"It wasn't easy," Link tried to downplay his experience. "And I had to make a new shield afterwards."

"You're a piece of work, all right," Thallius grinned. "My crazy idea might just have merit. All right, no more beating around the bush: Do you want fill in as their instructor for a while? It's not an order, mind you, or a request. It's an offer."

_Wait, what? Me? He can't be serious!_

"I would be honoured, Sir."

_Did I really just say that?_

Thallius brought his gauntlet down on Link's shoulder, almost making his knees give in.

"That's the spirit! I know it must be pretty sudden, but I really can't overstate how strained we are right now, personnel-wise. And I don't expect anything fancy, just get them in shape and teach them how to swing a sword in the right direction. And discipline, too, can't forget discipline. But you already seem to have some ideas."

"Yes, Sir."

_Dear ideas, please come to me quickly. Thanks in advance._

"Splendid. If you need anything, talk to the quartermaster in the building over there. Bald guy, name's Hariz. He'll show you around the grounds, too. I'll let him know you're coming."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I'll admit, I didn't think you'd accept so readily," Thallius said. "I hope your results match your confidence. They're all yours, 'instructor' Link. And don't go too soft on them!"

And with that, the general went on his way, vanishing through an archway into another building, leaving the newly-promoted and slightly dumbfounded Link in the courtyard.

_Come on, don't just stand there like a half-wit_, he told himself and departed for the main building to break the dubious news to the recruits. _His_ recruits.

_It's not like it's really a crazy idea. Well, maybe a little bit crazy._

_But it definitely won't be boring from now on._


	6. An Arbitrary Shortcut

**Chapter 6: An Arbitrary Shortcut**

Crossing the desert during the day was generally a bad idea, because the body lost far too much water due to perspiration that way. However, crossing it during the night was at least just as bad an idea, as the chilly desert nights could easily mean death for the always lightly-dressed Gerudo, who could not well afford to carry thick coats around during the day. Basically, crossing the desert at any time was a bad idea, but it was not like the Gerudo had any choice in the matter. Whenever they tried to establish a settlement on the grasslands of Hyrule field, the Hylian army appeared without fail to drive them back into the wasteland they came from, protective of the land they considered their own. It was all extremely frustrating.

Koume and Kotake had left most of the food and water they had stolen behind in the fortress at the desert's entrance, after trying for days to set their kinsmen dwelling there on the highly lucrative path of thievery. But the fortress dwellers had consistently refused that offer in accordance with the orders of King Garanth, who forbade stealing.

Instead, they insisted that what little food the few men who were allowed to work in Hyrule sent home and what little the women gathered in the desert had to suffice. They had enough water, too, or so they claimed, hauling it up from the river running along the edge of Gerudo Valley.

After enjoying the relative comforts of the fortress for two days, the sisters had remembered the letter from the King of Hyrule, and decided, in spite of their better judgement, to go and deliver it.

"Our people are really pathetic," Kotake said when, after an hour of walking across the hot sand, their conversation turned to the Gerudo. "Did you see them? All thin and gaunt, and they still insist that stealing is bad. Do they think their morals will feed them?"

"You're right," Koume said, "it's ridiculous. They won't even touch the stuff we brought in, because that would 'make them accomplices'. Oh well, that means we get to have it all for ourselves." She sighed wearily. "I just don't get them."

"Me neither."

"Maybe we're simply ahead of the times," Koume suggested. "One of these days, they may yet come around."

"Not as long as Garanth is in charge," Kotake said. "And now we're playing messengers for him! He better fork out something good for this letter."

"Which was already open when we got it," Koume said emphatically. "Do you remember that?"

"Of course, of course," Kotake placated her. "Gee, I'm sorry. If I'd known that we couldn't read it, I wouldn't have opened it!"

"I guess old people just don't think before they act."

"I'm younger."

"No you aren't."

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"D-D-Dragon!"

"No, you... what?"

"Dragon! Huge! Look!"

Koume, who had been habitually watching the sand below her feet for scorpions and worse things to step into, looked up, alarmed by her sister's words. The sight of the huge green dragon standing a stone's throw away from them was indeed rather unsettling. It had large leathery wings, a spiked tail and four long legs ending in impressive claws. The beast had seen the twins, too, and inspected them with red eyes set deeply in its multi-horned skull.

"T-that thing wasn't there two minutes ago! Ho-how did it get there?" Koume whispered, barely managing to form coherent sentences.

"It has wings, see? I think they're for flying!" Her sister was either not as scared as her, or managed to hide it behind her sarcasm.

"It's looking right at us!"

"Relax, it's not moving. Perhaps it's a mirage or something."

As if trying to belie Kotake's words, the dragon moved its head and gave off an intimidating roar; or at least Koume found it intimidating. But worse than the roar was the fact that it moved its legs and started running toward them, not sinking in the desert sand in spite of its weight.

"This is bad," Kotake now admitted, not much to her sister's relief. "We either run or fight."

"Running is good."

"No, that thing is way too fast. It'll reach us in seconds. We fight!"

Kotake drew her sabres, and Koume followed suit, a tiny bit emboldened by her sister's show of courage. The dragon continued its charge, shaking the ground, its eyes glaring, its nostrils emitting smoke.

"W-What if it can breathe fire?"

"Then we dodge it!" Kotake said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Killing a dragon can't be _that_ hard! You take the right side, I take the left! Try to climb up the wings. GO!"

The moment Kotake said that, the dragon was upon them, sweeping at the sisters with one of its sharp claws. They jumped away from him into either direction, rolling onto the sand. Koume frantically struggled to her feet, trying desperately to assess the situation. The dragon could only use one of his claws to swipe without falling over, and right now, he was using his left to go after Kotake.

_That means I have to go for it_, Koume thought, and leaped toward the dragon's right claw, hitting it with her sabres. But the scales that protected the monster's entire body were not cut that easily, and her blades barely left a mark. She would not give up so easily, not while her sister was occupying the dragon, and hit it repeatedly, eventually breaking one of the scales and cutting the flesh, drawing a small quantity of thick, red blood.

The monster did not roar in pain, Koume had hoped, but simply kicked out at her when its left claw touched the ground for a moment. The young Gerudo woman was almost knocked out and traveled a dozen feet through the air, but caught herself and hit the ground rolling. The sand was soft, naturally, and absorbed much of the impact, but it still hurt.

"No resting until we're done!" Kotake's voice carried over the sands, and Koume leaped up and ran toward the dragon again. It was still focused on her sister, so she had time to consider her options.

_Climb up the wings! _She remembered. While not in flight, the dragon's wings were folded over his back, but the tips were hanging close to the ground, less than five feet high. Koume sheathed her weapons, gained as much speed as she could, and jumped, reaching out with her arms. Her right hand got hold of the wing, her left followed, and she managed to hold onto it without falling.

_This is where the difficult part starts_, she thought, and was proven right immediately, for the dragon noticed her, unfolded his wings and started to flap. Koume held fast with all her strength but was thrown up and down and up again. She was not used to things like this – how could she? – and was quickly nauseated. She heard her sister shout something, but could not make it out clearly, focusing all her attention on not letting go of the wing.

"ENOUGH!"

A booming voice echoed all around them, and the dragon immediately stopped flapping its wings, which Koume was very grateful for; she was unwilling to surrender the precious contents of her stomach to the sand, and had just been about to lose it. But not only did the beast cease flapping, it also stopped moving entirely, no longer attacking either of the twins. Koume slipped off the wing and fell, landing on her back. Unable to get up, she looked for her sister, who was already running toward her.

"Are you all right?" she shouted.

"I... I think so. I'm just sick to my stomach. What... why did it stop?"

The dragon followed Kotake's movement with his eyes, looking curiously, but still did not attack them. Which was just as well, as far as Koume was concerned, but why?

"Didn't you hear the voice?" her sister asked as she helped her rise. "It told him that it was... well... enough." She picked up the white cloak that Koume had lost during her acrobatics on the dragon's wing and handed it over to her.

"Yeah, who was that anyway?"

"Why, me."

After fighting an enormous dragon and walking – well, falling – away with her life, nothing should have startled Koume anymore, but she still winced when she heard the voice right behind them, where nobody had been just a moment ago. She turned around and saw a tall Hylian man standing there, smiling politely. His tan was as dark as any Gerudo's, and he wore practical desert clothing, but his ears still gave him away.

"I do apologize for my dragon's behaviour," he said. "But rest assured that he would not have harmed you significantly. He has been strictly instructed not to kill anyone, unless my life is in danger."

The dragon moved several steps toward the Hylian and lowered its head in obedience, making a rather un-dragonlike noise that sounded like whining. The idea that this dragon was actually taken as a _pet_ or at least trained by a single man took several seconds for Koume to register. Still, its master seemed peaceful enough, even though the fact that he was Hylian was reason enough not to trust him too early.

"You are from the Gerudo tribe, are you not?" the Hylian asked. "How fares your king, Garanth? And his brother, what was his name again... Astalor, was it not?"

"I guess they're well... I mean, we're on our way to the king. We haven't seen him in several weeks."

Koume was surprised that her sister, whose attitude toward Hylians was decidedly worse than even hers, spoke so calmly to the man. "Who are you, anyway?" she asked.

"Why, my name is not important. In fact, I have discarded it long ago. But among your kind, I believe I am known as the Arbiter."

Kotake nodded, as though she had already known (which was probably the case, which made it all the more annoying for Koume). She, too, remembered what she had been told about the Arbiter as a child: A mysterious Hylian with magic powers who had taken up residence in an old ruin at the desert's edge shortly after their birth. The Gerudo had found out that, as long as they did not attack him, he would not bother them, and so he was left alone. Sometimes he was seen by gatherers wandering the dunes, apparently without rhyme or reason, and, again, left alone.

However, only a year after his first sighting, the wizard had become involved with Gerudo internal matters. When the previous king had died and his two sons, Astalor and Garanth, were locked in a fierce contest for his succession that came close to causing a Gerudo civil war. The Hylian wizard had been appointed as a mediator in this contest, since he was considered a neutral and impartial outsider by both parties.

For reasons unknown, or at least unrecorded, he had chosen the younger brother Garanth to succeed his father, and, to everybody's surprise, Astalor had accepted the verdict and henceforth served his brother as a loyal advisor. The wizard had then returned to his dwelling place, and old uninhabited ruin, and for the role he had played in the conflict became known as the Arbiter, an honorific that attested to the grudging respect the Gerudo held for him. Neither Koume nor Kotake had ever happened upon him before and considered him half-legend. Until today.

"So you really exist," Koume said. "That's kind of neat. I mean, it's good that the stories our parents told us weren't completely made up."

The Arbiter laughed, and Koume took the opportunity to inspect him closer. His tanned face, while without wrinkles, looked as leathery as the dragon's wings, and his long hair bound back in a braid was completely white. She was not going to ask him about his age, but he certainly seemed ancient. Then again, who knew what kind of a toll magic took on its users?

"What are you doing here?" Kotake asked, her curiousity overriding her distaste for Hylians. "Why does that thing obey you?" Koume asked at the same time, and found her question much more relevant.

"What thing? Oh, Ixis?" The Arbiter laughed merrily. "I found him when he was just a baby – an egg, actually. It's a long story, but he obeys me as long as I feed him. As to what I'm doing here – right now, I'm drilling for water!"

Koume looked around. "I don't see any drills."

"No, of course not," the Arbiter said. "I'm currently in the first stage: Looking for a good spot to start drilling. I admit I should rather say: I'm going to be drilling. My mistake." He bowed politely, which made Koume wonder whether he was mocking them, but she had no answer ready.

"When did you get that dragon anyway?" she asked after deciding to postpone the issue of mockery. "Nobody's ever seen it before!"

"I usually keep him invisible, for courtesy's sake, but that spell interferes with his sense of smell."

"You're using the dragon to sniff for water?" Kotake asked incredulously.

"Yes, yes, he has quite a nose, my Ixis. If there's any ground water below this desert, he'll find it."

"As long as he doesn't attack innocent travellers," Koume griped. "But you're a wizard. Why don't you just... conjure up water?"

The old Hylian shook his head as if he had just heard something truly silly.

"Young lady, magic is overrated, and I say that as someone who knows a lot about it. It's by its very nature disruptive, though often useful, and it is outright impossible to create something from nothing. Any magic energy a wizard expends is taken from his own life energy, which is replenished by food and drink. Therefore, summoning water just to drink it is like stealing your own money. It makes no sense."

"What happens when you use magic for too long without, uh, replenishing yourself?" Koume had to admit that she was curious, after all, magic was completely unknown to their tribe, and they did not get to talk to a wizard every day.

"The body uses up its own energy reserves, and over time, you wither and die. Or you collapse from exhaustion, whatever comes first."

"Doesn't sound much different from the way you'd normally die in the desert."

"I suppose it isn't, no. Well, my ladies, what do you think about my project?"

"Meh, sounds good in theory," Kotake said without much enthusiasm. "Call us when you've actually found water, and we'll be ecstatic."

The Arbiter opened his eyes wide, but then nodded.

"Yes, I see how my words might seem like empty promises to you desertfolk. But just you wait: Given enough time, I'll turn this entire desert into a paradise!" He hesitated and rubbed his nose, seemingly regretting his bold announcement. "Maybe," he added with a bashful grin. "I mean, if I actually _find_ water first. That's so exciting about life: You never know if anything works until you try."

"Make that 'until you die' for us 'desertfolk'," Kotake snorted. "Not everybody has the luxury of just flying out of this place when they don't like it anymore."

A frown came over the wizard's face, and he nodded again, repeatedly.

"I understand that I have insulted you," he said. "I can see how my power frustrates you. Can I make it up for you? Give you a hand somehow?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Kotake said before Koume could say anything else. "Walking is something we 'desertfolk' are good at."

_Hey, I was just about to come up with something!_

"No, no, I insist!" the Arbiter said. "Where are you walking to, ladies? I can bring you there much quicker!"

"Uh, no," Koume said and peered suspiciously on the dragon that was digging idly in the sand, paying no attention to the twins – fortunately. "I'm not getting on that thing!"

"What?" The Arbiter looked surprised. "You meant to fly on Ixis? No, I wasn't talking about that! I can simply teleport you!"

"Tele-port?" Koume asked. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, let me show you!" The old Hylian moved his hand slightly and suddenly disappeared, then reappeared several yards beside the spot where he had been. Another gesture, and he was back again.

"Of course it works over a much higher range," he assured the sisters, who stared at this display of magic with silent amazement. "I can take you to any place in this desert, within the blink of an eye. How about it?"

The sisters looked at each others, slightly uneasy.

"And I assure you, it is perfectly, absolutely, safe!"

"Well," Koume said, "it would save us at least eight hours of walking. I think we should give it a try."

"All right," Kotake agreed. "How does it work?"

"It's easy – for you, that is. Just close your eyes and imagine in your head the place you want to go. Leave the rest up to me."

Koume nodded and closed her eyes and imagined the Desert Colossus, the large statue that housed the Spirit Temple, and the adjacent oasis where the king usually resided. She had not been there for several weeks, but every Gerudo could remember the sight of the enormous statue after seeing it once.

"Are you ready, ladies?" the Arbiter asked, almost sounding excited.

"Yes," the two women replied.

"In that case... bon voyage!"

Before Koume could ask what that was supposed to mean, she felt a ripple pass through her body, and suddenly, loud noises were all around her. Voices. She opened her eyes, and found herself amidst several tents pitched up next to the small body of water that made the oasis one of the few hospitable places in the desert. She was surrounded by Gerudo of all ages and both sexes, staring at the new arrivals in utter surprise, and, as they recognized them, suspicion. The twin sisters' dubious reputation preceded them as usual.

"Uh... hello," Koume said to her dumbfounded tribespeople. "We kind of took a shortcut."

"Where is Garanth?" her sister asked loudly. "We want to see him."

"Who calls for me?" a moderately imposing voice asked from somewhere amidst the throng. "Make way, people, come on!" Koume recognized it immediately as that of King Garanth.

"This... magic is extremely useful," Kotake whispered in her ear as the king struggled through his people, "just think about how easy it would make break-ins!"

"That's right," Koume replied, keeping her voice low. "We should find this Arbiter later and talk him into teaching us."

"You think he would?" Kotake asked, sounding almost excited.

"Can't hurt to ask, can it?"

Garanth had finally broken through the lines of Gerudo surrounding Koume and Kotake. The Gerudo King was respected and beloved by his people, but he did not command the same slavish submission as his Hylian counterpart, and the Gerudo very much preferred it that way.

"What's the meaning of this commotion?" he asked, his traditional elders' garments all entangled from his struggle to reach the sisters, and his silly red moustache drooping. "Who has arrived?"

"That would be us, the most respectable Koume and Kotake," Koume intoned. She knew, of course, that the two of them were not respected at all, and that for their thieving habits, the king regarded them as insufferable troublemakers.

"Of all people," Garanth moaned when he recognized them. "What do you want from me?"

Koume produced the letter the Hylian courier had given them and held it in the king's face.

"You've got mail from the King of Hyrule."

With a surprised gasp, Garanth snatched the envelope out of Koume's hand and removed the letter, but before taking so much as a look at it, he frowned and scowled at the sisters.

"It's not sealed. Did you do that?"

"Why, never!" Kotake assured him, and Koume echoed her words. "It was already open when the mailman gave it to us. He looked seriously dubious and unreliable."

"Is that so? I would use those words to describe two good-for-nothing pilferers I know."

"They sound like interesting people," Koume said innocently. "Maybe you should introduce them to us?"

"Don't play dumb," Garanth warned. "You're coming with me to my tent. I'll have a word with you after I read this." He motioned the crowd around them to make way for them, and the assembled Gerudo grudgingly complied.

"Great job opening it," Koume hissed at her sister. "I could have done without a lecture from the king."

"Just look at the bright side," Kotake suggested, "at least that way we'll learn what the letter is about."

"I thought you didn't care?"

"Maybe a little bit."

The sisters followed Garanth across the small oasis and into his tent, which was only slightly bigger than all the others; not even the king of the Gerudo could afford much in terms of luxury. He motioned them to sit down and took a first look at the letter.

"It's written in Hylian!"

"We could have told you that!" Koume snapped. "I mean... if we had taken a look, that is."

"Which we haven't," Kotake added quickly.

"What did I tell you about playing dumb? You wait here." Garanth briefly left the tent and returned shortly in the company of two men and a woman. They had picked up bits and pieces of the Hylian language, he explained, while staying in Hyrule to earn money in order to purchase items the Gerudo could not craft themselves. "They did honest work," he explained. "Something you should try too, one of these days."

The twin sisters ignored his snide remark – they worked for themselves, and maybe for their fellow Gerudo now and then, but certainly not for Hylians – and waited until the three had agreed on the contents of the letter after a short discussion.

"It says that King Artaxis of Hyrule invites the Gerudo King into his Keep to establish diplomatic relations."

"He's saying that now?" Koume asked incredulously. "He's been sitting on his throne for what, fourty years?"

"Don't interrupt," Garanth admonished her while rubbing his red moustache, absorbed in thought.

"Mistakes have been made in the past, on both sides," the woman continued. "The king hopes that we can forget the past and look into the future, and come to an agreement that will allow free trade between Hylians and Gerudo. Signed, King Artaxis I of Hyrule."

"Such generosity! I'm moved to tears."

"I said don't interrupt, Kotake!"

"Just so you know, I am Koume. And I didn't interrupt; she was finished."

"This is ridiculous," Kotake said contemptuously. "He's old and sees his end approaching. He's desperate for some kind of legacy. 'The first king who generously lowered himself to talk to the savages from the desert'. That's what he wants his historians to write about him, and he wants to use you as a tool. You shouldn't go."

"I did not bring you here to give me policy advice," Garanth responded coldly.

"I think it would be a good idea to go," one of the two men interjected.

"Who asked you, anyway?" Koume snubbed him. The man clenched his fists and shook them in her general direction.

"I won't be talked to like that by a thief who drags down the reputation of our people! If not for your ilk, this letter might have been written decades ago!"

The other two translators agreed with him, and Koume was just about to begin a brawl when Garanth intervened.

"You three have my gratitude. Rest assured that I will not waste this opportunity to improve our people's lot in the world."

The three understood that they had been dismissed and left the tent, not without giving Koume and Kotake disapproving looks on the way out.

"How old are you?" the king suddenly asked.

"Huh? Where'd that come from?" Koume wondered loudly.

"Just tell me."

"Twenty-six."

"And still you are behaving like children? Still you insist that the evil Hylians are keeping us down?"

"Yes, terribly childish," Kotake said sardonically. "It's not like there's a tower with armed sentinels at the exit of Gerudo Valley to keep us fenced in here or anything. Must've been my imagination."

The king sighed. "Yes, I know that most Hylians don't like us very much and probably think we're filthy mongrels and thieves. But we're not powerless to change that perception! If we demonstrate our good will–"

"And how do you want to do that? Kneel before that old doter on his throne?" Kotake raised her voice.

"If that's what it takes, then yes!"

"Pah. Some king you are."

"Well... I'm not against friendship with the Hylians," Koume said cautiously, her words earning her a piercing glare from her sister, "but they definitely have to make the first step! Their king should be walking through the desert heat to come to you, so he knows what we're dealing with every day!"

Kotake laughed derisively. "Ha! He'd die from a sunstroke before he'd make it halfway across."

"Don't you two get it?" Garanth raised his voice. "The letter spoke about trade! If we come to an agreement with the Hylians, our children might not have to go hungry anymore half of the time. Isn't that more important than our pride?"

"It's not about pride," Kotake said. "It's about justice." Koume nodded in agreement.

The king shook his head in frustration. "And you wonder why I call you children? You should listen to yourselves! You're basically complaining that the world isn't fair!"

"Then maybe we need a king who will _make_ it fair."

"You're hopeless," Garanth said and rubbed his face.

_He looks about ready to throw us out_, Koume thought. _And what are we doing here, anyway?_

"Except... perhaps not," the king continued to her surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I just had an idea." He smiled generously. "You're coming with me."

"What?"

"No way!"

"Yes, you are. Consider it a reward for delivering the letter. Or punishment for opening it. Either way, a foreign dignitary on state visit needs a guard of honour, and you two will do nicely."

"Now who's being childish?" Kotake asked furiously. "You just want to humiliate us!"

"Not at all. You see, I haven't given up on you two yet, and I'm convinced meeting the Hylians whom you so despice will be a valuable experience for you."

"Yeah, whatever," Kotake said. "We're not going."

"Oh yes, you are," Garanth said firmly. "I may not have complete authority over the Gerudo, nor do I desire it, but I have the right to request the occasional service from any member of the tribe. You're going with me, or you're exiled from the desert."

"You wouldn't get away with that!" Kotake shouted.

"Oh please. There's not a single man or woman in this camp who'd speak on your behalf. In fact, over the last few years I have received multiple petitions to exile you."

"Then why didn't you do it?"

"I just told you: I haven't given up on you yet."

"This is ridiculous. Koume, say something! Or do you actually want to go?"

"Well," Koume hesitated, "I've never been to the Hylian capital before. I'm kind of curious."

She leaned over and whispered into her sister's ear: "And we'd be visiting the king's place! Imagine the treasures we could steal!"

"You're just saying that because you want to go!"

"Can't it be both?"

"Stop whispering, you two! The matter is settled. Since you're already in travelling gear, we can depart in a matter of minutes. Just let me get some provisions and tell Astalor that he's in charge until I'm back."

Not giving the sisters an opportunity to voice further dissent, the king left the tent. Kotake shook her head wordlessly, while Koume already wondered about the precious items they would surely find in the king's residence. Neither of them spoke until Garanth returned, wearing a hooded cloak made from a light fabric very much like the ones Koume and Kotake were wearing, which would protect his head from the merciless sun without making him sweat more. He also carried several belt pouches containing food and water on his arms, and threw several of them at the twins, who caught them deftly.

"This should last us for a few days," he said. "I haven't been travelling in a long time, so I'm actually looking forward to this."

"Can you at least not be so cheerful about it?" Kotake asked in a pained tone.

"We should reach the edge of the desert before sunset," Garanth ignored her, "and march during the night. Hyrule field is as flat as the desert, so we'll be making good speed all the way. After all, there's no time to lose. And while we're walking, I'll be instructing you about the meaning of the word 'honesty', since you have a lot to learn in that regard."

Even though she was not wholly opposed to the visit, Koume joined her sister as she groaned loudly. Garanth's moral lectures were bound to make the journey appear much longer than it would be.


	7. The Return of the Prince

**Chapter 7: The Return of the Prince**

When Darion arrived at the keep in the dead of night, exhausted and tired, Zelda was already waiting for him, coated in a black cloak and hood. Not that she was hiding herself – she was the princess, after all, and none but the king had any say in regards to where she could and could not go – but rather out of habit. She often took secret walks during the night, frequently venturing outside the Keep, and the cloak had served her well. Of course there were always magical alternatives to hide her presence, but she preferred to use those only as a last resort.

Part of her did not even want to reveal herself now. Of course she was happy to see her brother come back safely, as the two of them usually got along well, but she was not looking forward to the conversation she was about to have with him. She knew that he had accompanied her father to the Triforce, and now she would be forced to probe him, to try and take his measure without him realizing it. She had known that this day would come for years, but she still felt unprepared.

"Brother," she whispered as he rushed past her, and he flinched, jerking his head around.

"Who is – Zelda?"

"Sorry for startling you, but you would have passed by me without noticing."

She pulled back her hood. "Welcome home," she said and hugged her older brother. He hugged her back, but she could feel that in his mind, he was already elsewhere.

"Thank you, Zelda. It's good to be home. But I'm really in a hurry right now. I must see father, or he'll–"

"He'll what? Have your head?" She tried to suppress a giggle. "Come on now. He's seriously angry, but he'd never do that! He only had his courier say that so you'd hurry home without getting sidetracked again."

"Well, it worked," Darion grumbled, "I've been walking for almost two days with way to little sleep."

Zelda cocked her head and looked at him quizzically.

"Don't you think if he'd wanted you to see him as soon as possible, he would have sent a second horse along with the courier?"

Darion bit his lower lip. "He may have wanted to punish me."

"He may have. At any rate, he retired to his chambers shortly after sunset, and instructed the guards to bring you to him first thing in the morning, should you arrive during the night."

"So I can get some rest before he chews me out? How generous." Darion narrowed his eyes. "Wait, how do you know all this? And how did you know when I'd arrive? Thanks to your sorcery?"

"Please," she sighed. _Why does he always suspect me of foul play? _"Not for something as trivial as this. You know me, I talk to people. Talked to the guards, who told me about father's orders. Talked to the courier, who estimated the time of your return. He estimated really well, I must say. I've only been waiting for twenty minutes."

"You're despicably trustworthy," Darion chuckled. "You could probably take over the throne by talking people into believing father and myself had abdicated."

_Oh my... he really doesn't think before he opens his mouth, does he?_

"Watch your words about things like this," Zelda admonished her brother. "Haven't you learned your lesson at all? Don't go casting the suspicion of throne robbery on other people, too!"

"Wait, I didn't mean it... I mean... throne robbery, really?"

"Yes, that's what it sounded like!" Zelda stood on her toes and shook Darion's shoulders, and her older brother suffered the humiliation stoically. "You're the crown prince!" she said. "There are some things you just don't get to say!"

Darion shook his head in defeat.

"You're right, sorry. I'm just... I'm just tired, that's all. I'll go to my room. We can talk more tomorrow, if my head is still on my shoulders by then."

"We must talk now. About the Triforce."

"Sssh!" Darion put his hand over Zelda's mouth. "Now who should watch her words? Not in the corridor!"

"Agreed," Zelda said and gently pushed his hand away. "Your room or mine?"

"Please, can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't. I have to coach you, or you'll talk yourself even deeper into trouble with father tomorrow morning. Your room," she said, grabbed him by his shoulders, turned him around and pushed him forwards. "It's closer, and besides, I have some chemicals brewing in my room. Trust me, you'd hate the smell."

"Resistance is futile?"

"Most definitely."

"What have I done to deserve this?"

The royal siblings quickly crossed the corridors, Darion in front, Zelda behind. Only few torches illuminated the rustic keep, but naturally, both of them knew the building inside-out, having spent most of their lives in there. They arrived at Darion's room, and before the prince could light a torch, Zelda conjured up a hovering globe of light that cast its rays throughout the room.

"Sorcery?" Darion asked with surprise as he carefully locked the door behind them. "For something as _trivial_ as this?"

"It's a light that can't be seen from the outside," Zelda explained as she sat down on a couch, "through the windows or the keyhole. We don't need anybody welcoming the prince back right now."

"You're way too cautious. Just like father," Darion complained, pulled over a chair and seated himself vis-à-vis Zelda. "So, about the Triforce. I understand that I'm pretty much the last person in this building to learn that it really exists."

"And I suppose you're angry at me for never telling you?"

Darion made a dismissing gesture. "Not really. I wouldn't have expected you to. But since when did you know?"

_Should I tell him the truth? He'll just think I'm boasting. Oh well..._

"Since I was twelve."

"What? That's... six years ago! Mother told you at that age? I'm insulted."

"No, I found it out by myself," Zelda correcter her brother. "I asked mother, too, but that was years later, and only because it would've seemed suspicious if I had never come around to it."

"Yes, you had to think of your reputation of being insufferably nosy."

"I prefer the term 'inquisitive', thank you."

"Father used that word, too." Darion grinned. "But even if you knew about the Triforce before me, you didn't get to see it yet, so I guess I'm still ahead of you in some way..."

Zelda smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but I've seen it long before you."

"Impossible! Father said the last time he'd used it was twenty years ago! You weren't even born back then!"

"Well, what do you know?" She could not help herself but boast a little, and used a magic spell to change her physical appearance to that of her father, as she had done back then to pass by the guards. "Maybe father just so decided to take a stroll into the Sacred Realm six years ago," she said, her voice matching that of King Artaxis. "Or someone who looked like him, at least."

Her brother was bewildered, as she had expected him to be. She quickly dispelled the image of her father, as impersonating somebody else always felt _wrong_ somehow.

"You can do that?" Darion stared at her with admiration and a little distrust. "You... you could do that already when you were twelve? What has that woman been teaching you?"

"Father ordered Arnu to give me a comprehensive education in magic," Zelda smiled. "What do you think I did in my room all these years? Twisting my thumbs? Anyway, it's not really shapeshifting, that's not something I can do yet. It was a mere illusion."

"So any wizard can go in and out of that... temple or whereever the Triforce is being kept, whenever as they please?"

"Of course not. There were also magic wards that I had to bypass, set up by Arnu. You're making this sound so easy."

"So did you actually use it?" Darion lowered his voice, which made him sound like an excited boy. "Did you make a wish?"

Zelda knew she was bad at lying; a flaw that she just could not seem to properly address, especially since Arnu kept telling her that it was, in fact, a virtue. So she did not even try and went ahead with the truth.

"It was just a small wish," she admitted. "Really small, just to see if it worked."

Her brother's eyes glared with curiosity.

"Now you have to tell me! Come on, what did you wish for?"

"I... oh, do I have to say it?"

"Absolutely. I won't listen to anything else you have to say unless you do!"

"That's so immature. Promise not to tell anyone, because it's embarrassing."

"I promise."

_He is a big oaf, but I can trust him with this... I think._

"I was just a child at the time, remember? So it was a childish wish."

"I won't laugh."

"I'll incinerate your hair if you do," Zelda growled. "It was about a pet I've always wanted to own, but never got."

"Uh oh. A bull? A wolf?"

"No, you dolt, just an ordinary little pony. Happy now?"

Darion pondered her answer for moments before he answered.

"I remember, you always used to want one, but father told you it was an unnecessary luxury." He laughed. "So you just wished for it. That's too cute."

"You laughed!" Zelda hissed, only half-joking. "Burn!"

She unleashed a small explosion of sparks above her brother's head, but of course not enough to actually set his hair ablaze.

"I'm sorry," he said and raised his hands in defence. "Anyway, did it work?"

"Of course it did," she said indignantly. "It appeared right next to me. The guards were totally confused when I returned with the pony, but I told them never to mention it to anyone. King's order."

"This is scary," Darion said. "You sure you're not ruling Hyrule from behind the scenes?"

"Of course not," Zelda snapped. "Arnu and Malark could tell immediately!"

"So that's why father has more than one magic user around him. To keep tabs on each others?"

"That's one reason, I suppose."

"That was the only time you used it?"

"Yes," Zelda nodded firmly.

"But why just once?" Darion sounded completely at a loss. "I asked father the same thing, and maybe I'll get a better answer from you! Why not use the Triforce more often?"

"Well, first of all," Zelda lifted her index finger into the air, as Arnu often did when teaching her, "there was no way I could repeat this often and get away unnoticed. But more importantly... when I petted that little pony, created out of thin air by the Triforce... it was scary. I felt a little bit like a god."

"And what's so scary about that? Think of what good you could do! Wish away bandits or monsters! Wish for better harvests! Maybe even wish for the dead to live again!"

_He doesn't get it, does he? This conversation is not going well. Par for the course for my oaf of a brother._

"And when new bandits appear? When another harvest goes bad? Would you use it again and again?"

"A small thing to ask of a king, don't you think?"

"You're not king yet!"

"I know! I'm talking about the future! Don't worry – I wouldn't sneak into this... Sacred Realm and use the Triforce, even if I could. That's father's decision to make, even if I think it's the wrong one. But once it's my turn to sit on the throne, you can be sure I'll use it as often as I have to!"

Zelda sighed. "How shall I explain it to you? I'm afraid that-"

"You are afraid," Darion said, now getting slightly agitated, "that there are two kinds of people: Those who can handle this power without becoming megalomaniacs, and those who can't. And you think I'm part of the latter group." He pierced her with his gaze. "Aren't I right?"

"You're wrong," Zelda replied, closing her eyes. _And I mean it._ "I believe that no single person can handle this kind of power, and that there are two kinds of people: Those who admit it to themselves, and those who don't."

"And you think I'm part of the latter group!"

Zelda said nothing. She could not deny it. In spite of her occasional mockery, she did not really believe her brother to be stupid, let alone ill-meaning. But he had a way of getting in over his head while acting impulsively. And with the power of the gods at his command, there would be no room for foolishness or mistakes. Of course she knew she was being at least somewhat hypocritical, having used the Triforce once for a childish wish of her own. But she was an adult now, and Darion as well; they had to act responsibly.

"I'm saddened that you think so little of me," Darion said, and Zelda could hear that he was genuinely disappointed. "Do you think I would rush through the portal first thing after father drops dead and start making crazy wishes?"

"No, I don't, but-"

"I'm talking now! Don't you think I would think things through first? Consult with people whose opinion I can trust, people who I know are smarter than me? Arnu, Malark... and you!" He snorted derisively. "But it's good to know that I can't count on your support in this matter. I'll remember it in the future."

Before Zelda could think of any words capable of calming her brother down, he jumped up, unlocked the door and stormed into the corridor, never minding that it was his own room which he was leaving. Zelda wanted to get up and follow him, but making a noisy scene in the middle of the night could not possibly lead to anything good. Besides, in his current mood, Darion was not likely to even listen to her.

_Why does he have to be this way_? she wondered. _Is it so difficult for him to act in a rational manner?_

Zelda sighed again, then got up from the couch and prepared to leave. Darion had failed her test, as bad as she failed for administering it.

_Now I'll have to do what I think is right, his or anybody's feelings be damned. Good thing I'll meet Queen Narala tomorrow – the timing couldn't be more perfect. That's something, at least._

With a wave of her hand, Zelda turned off the magical light, left her brother's room and closed the door behind her. Tired by her unsuccessful attempt to reason with him, she decided to go to bed, but she did not get far before almost colliding with another dark-clad figure wandering through the corridor. She gasped and jumped back, instinctively conjuring up a small fireball in her right hand, but did not let it fly before she knew who she was dealing with. The person opposite to her seemed unimpressed by her spell, for she thrust one hand at hers, and a gust of wind extinguished the magical flames. Another thrust, this time directed at her chest, and Zelda found herself sitting on the carpet, her backside hurting. Before she could think of another spell to defend herself, the dark figure flipped her fingers and rays of light emanated from her hands, dazzling Zelda.

"Oh, it's you, princess," a subdued female voice said. "Why are you running around in the dark – never mind, I guess I'm not one to talk." The woman extended her arm and helped Zelda get up.

"Arnu!" The princess recognized her tutor's voice, naturally, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "Watch where you put that light, I can't see a thing"

"Hush! It's the middle of the night, and some people are trying to sleep!"

The Sheikah woman made a quick gesture, and a greenish bubble surrounded the two. It only took Zelda a second to recognize the spell as a field of silence, which meant they could talk as loudly as they wished without even someone standing right next to them hearing a thing. She recalled how that spell still gave her trouble until this day, and marveled at the ease with which Arnu had performed it.

_I still have a long way to go before anyone calls me 'sage'._

"Isn't this the prince's room?" Arnu asked, pointing at the nearest door. "Has he returned yet?"

"Yes. But he's... not in there right now," Zelda tied to evade her question.

"Look at me, princess." Arnu's brought her red-eyed face close to Zelda's. "You've had a quarrel?"

"Is there any point in hiding something from you?" Zelda asked and looked away from her.

"No, and don't you ever try it. Your face is like an open book to me."

Zelda sighed and resigned. She had always been open with Arnu, even telling her about her expedition into the Sacred Realm years ago (her reaction had been approving laughter and praise for circumventing her wards).

"We talked about the Triforce and when it should be used," Zelda said.

"Oh, don't even get me started!" Arnu hissed. "I'm still mad at your father for this whole plague disaster. He could have taken care of it weeks ago! But no, he gave me the old and tired 'power corrupts' spiel. Seriously!"

"You disagree?" Zelda asked cautiously.

"Of course I do! Bad people with great power will do bad things, good people with great power will do good things, and I put all of your family members firmly into the camp of good. Only the weak-minded and those with bad advisors will fall victim to this dubious 'corruption' they talk about."

_She certainly speaks her mind. As usual._

"What do you think about it?" Arnu asked.

"Well, uh, I suppose... I agree with my father on that one."

Zelda came to regret that reply, for it only served to launch Arnu into a ten-minute-rant about how today's youth had such a pessimistic outlook on life, and that she should trust her own brother more, and that the opinion of old people with greater life experience should be given more weight, and she better not dare call her 'old', and so on.

Zelda lifted her hands above her head, trying to get her to stop.

"I'm sorry for getting you all upset, Arnu. We'll just have to agree to disagree."

"Bah, another one of those flimsy phrases people use when they're afraid to have a proper argument!" She looked at the ceiling in mock despair. "But I guess being independent-minded means you have the right to be wrong. We'll leave it at that, for now."

_Thank you!_

"Uh, so were you going anywhere in particular?"

"We Sheikah enjoy the darkness and night. They don't call us 'Shadow People' for nothing."

"And you're the Sage of Shadow, too," Zelda recalled. "Though I always thought that title would be a better fit for old Malark. I hope I never run into him at night. He'd probably give me a heart attack."

"Actually, he was the Sage of Fire, before he passed that title on to Callach when the number of sages was increased to seven," Arnu said in a scholarly tone. "He never cared about the traditional titles. He once called himself 'Sage of no Particular Elemental Affinity.'"

Zelda allowed herself a muted chuckle. "I didn't know Malark could be funny."

"I think that was the only joke I ever heard him make, and I had the displeasure of studying under him for ten years," Arnu said, and a slight shiver came over her. "I could tell you stories about that time, but then he'd probably kill me."

"You don't think you could beat him?"

She sage scowled at her. "I wasn't being serious. But no, there's no way I could beat him. I'm a scholar, while he used to be a battle mage. Though he still wasn't as powerful as his tutor Mudora. Now there was a wizard, even if he was a bit off kilter. But that was before your time, wasn't it?"

"Yes, he went into exile before I was born. Or so I read."

"Mudora wasn't just a master of magic, he also knew about its limitations. Which is why I try to teach you about other things as well." She recalled something. "Speaking of which, how is the experiment with the bromine going?"

"Splendidly." Zelda made a grimace. "Did you pick the worst-smelling chemical in existence just to torment me? It'll take weeks until the stench leaves my room!"

"Quit complaining, it's for your own good, like everything I make you do. Besides, didn't you mention something about leaving the Keep for some time, anyway?"

"Yes, of course. Queen Narala's letter of invitation arrived today per special delivery – it's amazing how fast the Zora can travel downriver to Keeptown! Tomorrow I'll depart for Zora's Domain and study their culture! There are absolutely no books about them in the library. Embarrassing, I tell you!"

_There's also that 'other' thing I want to talk about, but there's no way I'm going to tell that to anybody in the Keep. Sorry, Arnu._

Arnu frowned at the mention of the Zora Queen's name.

"Bah, don't remind me of Narala. I'm still mad at her for refusing our sick access to their curative springs."

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Is there anybody you're not currently mad at?"

"The curse of my superior intellect," Arnu sighed. "Fine, go with my blessings. But don't stay too long! You are still the princess!"

"Yes, please remind me about that twice a week, or I might forget," Zelda said.

"I'm not being funny, you know. What I mean is that you should keep up with court and government business as much as possible. You can't afford to be a full-time scholar as long as you're second in the line of succession. Your father is old, and your brother, bless his heart, is rash and impulsive to a fault, and he doesn't even have a wife yet, let alone children. One of these days, he might return from a wild-Moblin-chase in a coffin, perish the thought. Should that day ever come, you must be ready to take his place."

_Everybody is talking about succession these days_, Zelda thought, _whether hushed or in the open_. It made her feel uneasy and a little bit sad.

"I know all that," she told Arnu earnestly. "I promise I won't neglect my duties."

"I didn't think you would. And now go to your room!" The Sheikah sage dispelled the field of silence and whispered. "At your age you need all the sleep you can get!"

The old woman gave her a courteous nod and strode swiftly down the corridor, and the light at her fingertips vanished when she disappeared around a corner.

Zelda yawned as she began walking toward her own room several corridors removed from this one and admitted to herself that Arnu was probably right about her needing sleep. Regardless, she resolved to practice some of her spells before she went to bed, or perhaps work on the experiment with the stinking contents of the beaker on her table, so she would actually get it done before she left for Zora's Domain.

"I dislike sleep," she muttered to herself. "It's such a terrible waste of time."


	8. A Questionable Envoy

**Chapter 8: A Questionable Envoy**

"My queen, I apologize for interrupting you at this late hour-"

"There is no need for that," Narala cut off the guard who had just knocked at the door of her private chambers, interrupting one of her rare moments of relaxation. "I assume you're here for a reason, so state that reason." In truth, she hoped that his reason was a good one, but she could not say something like that aloud; she was above snide remarks like that.

"An envoy from Hyrule has just arrived," the young male Zora reported, still nervous in spite of his queen's assurances, "and she looks rather dubious, if you excuse my saying. She wishes... no – I'm afraid she used the word 'demand' – to talk to you immediately about the security arrangements during Princess Zelda's stay."

"She demands it, from a foreign monarch? That's certainly bold. I'm of a mind to send her back to Hyrule post-haste, with a nasty letter to King Artaxis in hand."

The guard nodded slightly, as if he held a grudge against the unwelcome visitor who had made him disturb his queen. But Narala sighed and shook her head.

"Unfortunately, I would never let protocol nor pride get in the way of work, so bring her before me. I can still throw her out if she has nothing of importance to say."

"As you wish, my queen," the guard said and bowed. "Again, I'm sorry."

Narala said nothing as she watched him vanish through the damp tunnels and wondered what urgent business the Hylian envoy might have with her. There were no 'security arrangements' to make for Zelda's visit – if security at the court was good enough for the queen herself, it would certainly suffice for Zelda. And why had the princess not mentioned anything about this visitor in her letter?

_She may not have much of a say about her own security, so she might not even know about these 'security measures'._

Narala wondered whether the envoy was truly who she appeared to be – after all, the guard had called her 'dubious'. If she deemed her only in the least untrustworthy, she would have to find out her true reason for coming here.

The guard returned in the company of another soldier and the Hylian envoy, who was walking between the two. They both seemed uncomfortable, yet remained watchful, though perhaps gripping their lances to tightly. Narala saw that the envoy was not a Hylian at all; rather, it was a young Sheikah female, for her blackened leather armour and red eyes clearly identified her as such. Of course that still qualified her as Hylian, in a manner of speaking, since it was well known that the Sheikah served the royal family with unquestionable devotion.

_'Dubious' fits the bill,_ the queen thought. _She has a sinister look about her, like all of her kind. But I mustn't be judgemental._

"I will speak to you inside," she said. "You two will wait in front of the door."

The Sheikah woman might look sinister, but it was unlikely she would try to attack Narala, and her business would certainly be of a confidential manner. She trusted her guards with her life, of course, but discretion was an entirely different matter. The men acknowledged her orders and took positions outside the door, and the Sheikah followed Narala into her room. Once inside, the queen lowered herself onto a seating seashell and inspected the woman, finding that she was unarmed, at least superficially.

_Of course she is. The guards would not have let her before me otherwise. Then again, Sheikah are supposed to carry weapons all over their body... I hope they were thorough._

Narala pushed the thought from her mind and focused on the present situation. After all, the idea of the King of Hyrule wanting her dead was preposterous, and a rogue Sheikah going after her, of all people, even more so.

"I would offer you a seat," she told the woman, "but I presume you prefer standing."

"Yes, your highness," the Sheikah answered, her voice as calm as her countenance. "It is good that you admitted me, even this late. I have something urgent to tell you."

"First things first. What is your name and position?"

"I am called Sharu. I serve as royal bodyguard. I am here under direct orders from King Artaxis. Here is his seal."

The woman presented a piece of parchment that indeed bore the crest of the Hylian royal family. Narala inspected it closely and found that it was unlikely to be a forgery.

"Very well, Sharu," she said. "Tell me what was so urgent that you needed to see me."

The envoy's expression did not change as she delivered the news.

"The Sheikah leadership has good reasons to assume that an attempt on Princess Zelda's life will be made during her stay in this place."

_Oh my. At least it's not a small matter._

"By whose hands?"

"Disgruntled Hylian peasants who somehow blame the royal family for the plague. According to communications we intercepted, they are in league with at least one Zora guard who is stationed in your immediate proximity. He is supposed to be the actual assassin."

"That is... certainly a bold accusation you're mounting against my soldiers," Narala said slowly, taking her time to ponder Sharu's news. "And so sadly unspecific. There are at least two dozen guards stationed in my proximity at all times. Before casting suspicion on them, I would speak to the accuser. I assume 'intercepted communication' refers to a captured messenger instead to a piece of writing?"

The Sheikah soldier slightly drooped one corner of her mouth.

"I'm afraid the conspirator did not live long after divulging this piece of information."

"You killed him during the interrogation?" Narala allowed her dismay to become audible. "I thought the Sheikah were more professional than that."

Sharu, however, seemed unmoved by her criticism.

"The Hylian soldiers who apprehended him wounded him gravely. An unfortunate mistake. Believe me, it bothers us as much as you."

_So somebody else was to blame? How convenient._

Narala shook her head, disappointed at how little this Sheikah had to offer her.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" she asked. "I can't very well accuse all of my guards of treachery based on the words of a Hylian peasant who's no longer alive!"

"Of course not. That is not what we ask. I merely request your permission to act as the princess's personal bodyguard during her stay, in the hope that our continuing investigation in Hyrule unearths more tangible evidence."

_This request is highly unusual, though admittedly not outrageous. As long as she doesn't get paranoid and starts trouble with the royal guard._

"I grant your request, Sharu of the Sheikah," Narala said, her voice automatically assuming a formal tone. "However, due to safety concerns of my own, you are forbidden to bear arms as long as you enjoy our hospitality."

"I understand. Weapons will not be strictly necessary. Since the conspirator spoke of only one Zora assassin, simply throwing myself between him and the princess in order to buy the rest of your loyal guards time to apprehend him will be sufficient to fulfill my duty."

Sharu's words did not surprise Narala much; after all, the Sheikah's loyalty to the royal family of Hyrule was the stuff of legends. She wondered not for the first where it came from, and what the history of the Shadow People was.

_Maybe Zelda herself will be able to shed some light on this matter during our conversations. But it would be awkward, talking about the Sheikah as one of them stands next to us, listening Then again, she's the stoic type. All of them are. So they probably wouldn't be offended, or at least not show it._

"It is good that you brought this matter to my attention," she told her visitor. "I will also have someone look into the royal guard and possible connections to Hylians, although the investigation will have to move with great caution."

"Your subjects would be troubled if they thought you suspected them of disloyalty," Sharu answered. "I understand completely. That will be all, from my side."

_No need to thank me for the privilege you have been granted,_ Narala thought sourly. _The majordomo will have a stroke when he hears of a foreign soldier wandering through the corridors. Technically, it is an insult to our hospitality._

"Consider it a show of good will to the people of Hyrule." She recalled Arnu's angry letter concerning solidarity and gratitude. "Be sure to convey that to your superiors once you return the princess to your Keep."

"I will, your highness."

"You are dismissed, then. The guards will show you to the guest quarters. Your weapons will be returned to you when your visit is over."

"I understand," Sharu said and left the room.

_Not even a bow? I wonder whether Hyrule's royalty isn't too lenient with their favourite servants... I'll have Erliss give her a lecture about proper forms. I'm sure he'll enjoy that._

But there were more important things to think about. Such as the story about the conspiracy involving one of her soldiers. Investigating the royal guard would be unpleasant and might open her to ridicule or even contempt, but having her personal guest be killed by a Zora while under her protection might lead to a major diplomatic crisis. That was not a risk she was willing to take.

She left her room and went to wake majordomo Erliss and the head of the royal guard. Both had been loyal servants to the Zora royal family for two generations and were free from suspicion as far as she was concerned. She would order them, and only them, to investigate with the greatest possible discretion whether there was any truth to the Sheikah woman's words; the fewer knew about this, the better.

Narala yawned, covering her mouth with her hand even though there was nobody around to see her. She always rose early in the morning, which meant, considering the late hour, that she would get little sleep during this night, which was not uncommon.

_Being queen is so exhausting, _she thought, not for the first time secretly wishing that she could return to the life of a scholar that she had so neglected ever since her ascension. But there was nobody to take her place safe her daughter, who was not even three six old.

_Somebody has to shoulder the responsibility, so it might as well be the most qualified person._

That thought was at best only vaguely comforting.

* * *

It had been quite a fete, Kokron remembered, involving high-yield fireworks, copious amounts of rockmead and multiple horribly failed attempts at dancing. But that was pretty much the extent of what he remembered about the celebration; the details were lost in a thick haze in his mind. He found himself lying in one of the numerous backrooms of Goron City, apparently alone safe for several empty jars that had contained rockmead, suffering from a headache that was every bit as legendary as his encounter with Volvagia.

"Hey, hero, wake up! King Grangus wants to see you!"

Only now did Kokron realize that he had not woken up on his own accord, that a Goron he did not know (or at least not remembered) had awakend him by rudely shaking him.

_Hero sounds good, _he thought wearily. _But can't you let the hero sleep?_

"Come on, get up. You don't want to let the king wait, not even you. He'll be worse than the dragon!"

_I seriously doubt that_, Kokron wanted to reply, but instead he resigned himself to his fate and got to his feet. It took him a minute to recognize the room he was in and plot the shortest route through Goron Citys winding ramps and corridors to the king's chambers, and slowly started walking.

"Can you get there alone?" the Goron who had waken him asked with some concern. "You don't look too good."

"Do I look like an old man or what?" Kokron snapped. "I killed a dragon, you know! I can walk just fine!"

"Yes, I have heard," the other Goron said with a pained expression, and Kokron wondered just how often he had related the tales of his heroic exploits in the Fire Temple during the celebration. Another thought crossed his mind before he left the room, and he turned back and asked the Goron still standing there:

"Hey, you. How long has it been since I came back?"

Disapprovingly, he answered: "Three days."

_Oh. Oh. That certainly was a fete to be remembered._

Simultaneously embarrassed and impressed with himself, Kokron hurried through Goron City, greeting and waving at passersby whenever they recognized him (which happened a lot); he seemed to have become rather famous, which was only fitting for a dragon killer. Now and then a Goron giggled at him, making Kokron wonder again about the things he had done during the celebration. But that was how it always was when he had too much to drink, and he would probably learn about his embarrassing exploits in great detail at a later time. Right now, the king was waiting.

_Probably to give me some sort of commendation. Yes, that would be nice. And maybe something for the headache._

Kokron reached the king's room and entered without knocking (after all, he had been summoned). Grangus was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, obviously impatient. The Goron King was old and stocky, no match for Kokron in a straight fight (not that he would ever dare suggest such a thing), but his intelligence and cunning had earned him his peoples' respect.

"Good to see that my messenger has finally found you. Don't you think that your behaviour in the past few days was a little bit... excessive?"

"I can't answer that," Kokron said, "because I don't remember much of it."

Grangus shook his head. "That's already an answer, isn't it? But never mind that for now. You will be happy to learn that I've sent scouts into the Fire Temple who have confirmed that Volvagia is indeed dead, and that everything they found matches your accounts."

"Of course it does," Kokron grumbled. "Did you think I was lying?"

"Not necessarily. But I did not share the people's readiness to celebrate you as a hero without even confirming your story first."

"But now you can do it? Celebrate me as a hero, I mean?"

"Oh spare me," the king grunted. "Heroes are nothing special, you know. They pop up whenever disaster strikes, as constant as bomb flowers regrow. It is a king's task to use heroes, not to fawn over them. You have the rest of the city for that. It just goes to show how relieved everybody was about that damn dragon finally being dealt with. They were just... overly emotional."

This conversation was not going where Kokron had wanted it to go, that much was certain. Another pang of headache cut off his biting retort, which was probably just as well, considering that the king was still the king.

"So if you don't want to celebrate me," he said after the worst had passed, "then what do you want from me?"

"I thought that should be obvious," the king smiled cordially. "I have another task for you."

"More dragons?"

"No, something completely different. More like a diplomatic assignment."  
"Don't you have diplomats for that?" Kokron scratched his waist, uncertain whether Grangus was joking with him, but unwilling to call him out. "I'm a warrior, not a smooth talker."

"I'm afraid Volvagia ate all the diplomats," Grangus said dryly.

"What, were you trying to negotiate with it?" Kokron asked in bewilderment.

"Not quite like that, but it doesn't matter anymore," Grangus cut him off. "You have proven yourself capable and loyal, which is why I give you this opportunity to expand your skill set. Besides, it won't be very difficult."

"Well? What is it?"

"Do you accept?"

"Oh come on, tell me the details first!"

"Very well," the king sighed. "I want you to travel to Zora's Domain."

Kokron gasped as nightmare visions of drowning flashed past his eyes. Gorons were heavy as rocks and did not float in water, nor could they swim, so falling into it usually meant a miserable death unless help arrived quickly. "Isn't there another dragon to fight? I'd rather die a heroic death than drown like a rat in some Zora pool!"

"Oh don't be silly. I'm sure you'll be able to avoid any fatal pitfalls during your stay. Or is the mighty hero afraid of some puddles?"

_Hey now, don't talk to me like that! Now I have to accept just to show him that I'm not afraid! _

_Which is exactly what he wants me to do. Damn it, he's good at this._

"Fine," Kokron said nonchalantly, "it's not like it bothers me, or anything. What shall I do there?"

"I'm glad you accept your mission," the king replied. "Do you know of the alliance that the Gorons and the Zora formed in the days of my grandfather? To assist each other in times of need?"

"Yes, it's a pretty useless alliance. Did we ever get anything out of it?" Kokron remembered how he and several other Goron warriors had been sent to help the Zora to clear out an infestation of monsters in a grove near Zora river four or five years ago; the lanky fishmen had been unable to handle the threat themselves. "It's more like we're protecting them, really."

"See, that's why I'm the king," Grangus said and patted Kokron's head, "because I think in the long term. Right now, there may be nothing in it for us, but times change, and someday, we might need the help of the Zora. Besides, it's a good thing to further peace and cooperation between the races, no matter the reason. Anyway, the treaty signed back then must be renewed once every ten years, which is where you come in."

"You want me to sign a piece of paper?" Kokron asked incredulously. "That's all?"

"It's not just a formality," Grangus lectured him. "It's an expression of goodwill between our two races, and it's very important in order to maintain peace in Hyrule!"

"If its so important, why don't you go yourself?"

"Tradition has it that the respective kings come together only every fifty years to renew the pact themselves. At all other occasions, a simple delegate is sent."

"Oh, tradition," Kokron scoffed. "Nice excuse."

Grangus glared at him. "Are you reneging on your word?"

"Of course not. I'll go. I'm just complaining a little, so don't mind me."

"I've met worse whiners," Grangus snorted. "So then, you will depart at your earliest possible convenience – that's diplomatic for 'right now' – and travel to Zora's Domain. The way is simple: Go down the Death Mountain trail, past the Sheikah village, and follow the river upstream until you come upon the first Zora watch post. They'll be expecting you and lead you to their queen, where you'll sign the treaty. Then remain in Zora's Domain for a couple of days after that. Consider it cross-cultural exchange."

"I understand," Kokron said, trying to summon up some enthusiasm for his mission. Maybe there were hot springs in Zora's Domain? Gorons hated pools of water deeper than their own height, but everything below that was fine, and like most of his kind, Kokron had a fondness for hot springs.

"Maybe I'll get something good out of the whole thing," he muttered below his breath.

"It's not a pleasure trip," the king reminded him sternly. "It's a mission, and don't you forget it!"

"I know. It's just that I thought a hero would get a reward, that's all."

Grangus smirked, for the first time dropping his stern facade.

"Heroes never get a reward. They only get more and more responsibilities piled on them, as long as they can handle it. _Because_ they can handle it. Think about that some time."

Kokron was not in the mood for philosophical reflections; deep thinking would only make his headache worse. So he simply nodded.

"Be on your way then, and don't botch this."

"I think I can manage to write down my own name."

"I was thinking more along the line of committing a serious faux pas. Don't go making any moves on the Zora women!"

_Women,_ Kokron thought as he left the king's room and prepared for his journey. _I've heard about those. What an interesting concept..._


	9. The Bones of Their Fathers

**Chapter 9: The Bones of Their Fathers**

The two dozen young recruits who were marching across Hyrule Field in the late morning hours were wheezing and moaning and generally short of breath, being forced to wear helmets and full armour as well as carrying sword, shield, shovel, sleeping mat and all kinds of equipment a soldier might be expected to carry. Most of them looked like they could collapse at a moment's notice, but none of them dared to, because the voice of their instructor kept them going, cracking through the air like whiplashes.

"Don't you dare stop now, you worms! You can have a break once we've reached the next village, not before! To think that you'd be out of breath after only four hours, why, you're pathetic! You're worms! No, you're less than worms, you're maggots!"

_My parents are probably spinning in their graves right now_, Link thought. _After all, they raised me to be a polite, considerate young man. Although I must admit that a small part of me is enjoying this._

Link had only been an instructor for little longer than twenty-four hours, but he had already learned many things; for instance, that being polite might make you popular among the recruits, but it also meant that they slacked off at every possible opportunity. And since General Thallius expected results from him, slacking off was not something he could tolerate. He had spent yesterday afternoon teaching his would-be soldiers the basic fundamentals of swordplay, and after sending the exhausted bunch to bed early, he had decided to use the second day for some sorely needed stamina building exercise, which meant marching across Hyrule Field in full combat gear.

One recruit whose name Link had not yet memorized (addressing them as 'worms' did not help with that, he admitted) stopped and sank to the ground, moving on all fours. His comrades hesitated, but kept walking, unwilling to draw the ire of their instructor (and perhaps happy that for now, he would have another target). Link, who had been walking in the rear, sped up, planted himself next to him, and yelled:

"You call that marching, soldier? I call it crawling! Very fitting for a maggot like you!"

"Please," the soldier wheezed, his face a pitiful grimace, "just a minute!"

"You don't get a minute! Crawl with all your strength, you slow piece of dung! I don't care if you can't walk, but you will keep moving!"

Given the choice between humiliating himself before his comrades or getting up, the recruit did as Link had predicted and struggled to his feet, continuing without a word. He knew that what he did was rather cruel, but he was not doing it without good reason: He knew that horses were rare and expensive, most of them being reserved for messengers and of course the mounted knights. Therefore, if foot soldiers like themselves were ever called to real combat, there would be lots and lots of marching.

_Besides, I'm not being unfair since I'm carrying the same stuff as they do. And they don't see me complaining, do they? And I have even more reason to be out of breath, that with all the yelling._

Setting a good example was very important, Link thought, or else he would simply become a yelling, hypocritical bully. If he went through the same ordeals as his recruits, he hoped that they would not only be motivated by his example, but also come to respect him. At least that was his theory.

Just as he wanted to launch into another verbal assault against his recruits, Link heard hoofbeats behind him and turned his head without stopping. A single horse, carrying two riders, had come up behind them, its hoofbeats drowned out by Link's own yelling until it had come this close. The soldiers noticed it, too, but continued marching.

The horse slowed down, obviously in reaction to Link and his group, and Link examined the two people seated on it. The rider was easily recognizable as a middle-aged Hylian soldier, while his companion was a woman wearing a brown travelling cloak. As Link had feared, the soldier shouted "Halt!," and the recruits were only too happy to obey.

_This is bad, _Link thought, _he's ruining their rhythm. We're almost at the turning point. Now is not the time for a break!_

But the mounted warrior was wearing an officer's insignia, and although Link had not memorized the Hylian army's rank structure yet, it was obvious that this man outranked him, so he, too, stopped walking and formally saluted as the horse came to a stop.

"Why are you moving out, soldier?," the officer asked. "Has there been an incident anywhere?"

"No, Sir," Link replied, "merely a little march for training."

Several recruits snorted in outrage, probably not agreeing with Link's interpretation of 'little', but held their tongues.

"Good to hear. I'm escorting an important person, so I'd have to alter our route it if there was any danger on our way. We're already skipping all the villages on our journey, but trouble could arise anywhere."

"Not to my knowledge, Sir." Link thought for a moment, then added: "Is there anything you need me to do?"

"No. Just carry on."

"Wait a moment, please." That was a female voice, coming from the cloaked woman behind the officer. The man turned his head and whispered to her.

"Please, my lady, it's not safe to-"

"Oh rubbish, they're our own soldiers!" The woman climbed off her horse without asking for permission and threw back her hood, revealing a plain-looking face with long, brown hair and green eyes. Link thought she looked about as old as Kari (why did he compare every girl he met to Kari?) and watched her curiously as she walked toward the recruits under the disapproving gaze of her escort. She then took off her cloak, which revealed a white dress adorned with the royal family's crest and made Link realize that she could only be...

"Zelda!" one of the recruits whispered in awe. "It's the princess!"

Murmur arose among the recruits and fingers were pointed at the young woman.

"Shut up, maggots!" Link snapped without thinking, then remembered in whose presence he was. "I'm sorry, my lady," he said, choosing to ignore her escort's amused grin. What did one say to the princess, anyway? "I'm at your service."

_That sounded so stupid._

Zelda smiled at him graciously, then addressed the recruits.

"I just wanted to say to all of you that I – no, that the whole royal family truly appreciates the effort you're making in order to protect Hyrule. I'm... I'm probably never going to be queen, but I still want you to know that my father and my family couldn't do what we do without your help. So thank you."

Zelda performed a short bow, which caused cheers among the exhausted recruits while leaving her escort staring open-mouthed, as she was clearly in breech of protocol. Link thought he saw Zelda blush as she donned her cloak again and mounted the horse.

"I'm no good at this," she told the rider. "Let's continue on."

"Yes, my lady," he replied and spurred the horse, and they sped by the astonished recruits without further words. The soldiers' gazes followed the horse and its riders as they grew smaller and smaller.

_What was that all about?_ Link wondered in confusion._ Maybe she felt bad about us panting and sweating while she was riding? But that's just the way things are._

"A kingdom for their horse," a recruit whispered, bringing Link's attention back to his sorry troop.

"This break wasn't even supposed to happen, you lucky maggots!" he yelled. "We're almost at the village! You can plant your sorry butts on the ground when we're there! Maybe I'll even let you eat something if I feel generous!"

Link was speaking the truth: The village that he had determined as the turning point of their march was well within sight, looking very much like all the other peasant villages scattered over Hyrule field, including his own: Wooden homes haphazardly sprawled around a small church, surrounded by a belt of fields and acres. The recruits seemed reluctant to get moving, however, still under the impression of Zelda's impromptu speech.

"Look at me!" Link yelled. "I'm not your princess! I'm your worst nightmare, and I'll make you run the rest of the way! Come on, maggots, run! As if your life depended on it!"

He drew his sword and stabbed in the recruits' general direction, which sent the two men closest to him running, and the others followed suit. As the village drew closer, Link noticed a small number of people running toward his troop. They looked extremely agitated and began shouting once they were within earshot.

"Help us! Please, help us! The dead are attacking us!"

Reacting quickly, Link ordered the confused recruits to keep running while he grabbed one of the panicking villagers and tried to make him talk sense.

"Try not to overreact. Tell me what's going on, slowly."

The man nodded, gulped, and started talking, his voice still nervous, but steady.

"Stalfos are coming out of the crypt at the graveyard! There are at least six of them! They're attacking the villagers! I think they already killed somebody! You are soldier, please, help us!"

"Yes, be calm, we will do just that."

Link started running, trying to catch up with his soldiers while thinking about what he had just heard.

_Stalfos. Reanimated skeletons. Legends say they can be found in ancient ruins and mausoleums, but an ordinary village graveyard? Has that ever happened before?_

"Listen up, men," he shouted, dropping the 'maggots' in this hour of real danger. "Once we're in the village we go looking for the Stalfos. We will all stick together, nobody splits off or runs away. Use your shields like I taught you and only attack when there's a good opportunity."

"Stalfos," a recruit who looked even younger than Link gasped. "I thought they existed only in fairy tales."

"I hope the princess is safe," another one chipped in.

"I'm sure she is," Link answered. "Her escort said they were going to avoid settlements in the first place. Don't worry about her, our priority are the villagers' lives. And our own, right after that. I don't want any of you dying on me before I'm done with you. And believe me, I haven't even really started yet!"

In spite of their exhaustion, several soldiers laughed. The small troop reached the edge of the village, and Link ordered them to slow down a bit; no sense in facing the skeletons while completely breathless. The village was very small, and many of its denizens were running away screaming from its centre, so it was easy to tell where the Stalfos were gathered. They came upon the central square and saw them: Not the announced six, but at least twice that many skeletons wielding swords and shields. They had cornered a small band of men, perhaps eight in all, who were armed with pitchforks or clubs, desperately trying to escape from their predicament.

"Ready your weapons!" Link shouted, and his men drew sword and shield. "Stay close together and cover each other! Don't try to play the hero, act as a unit! Fan out and attack!"

With a reluctant battle shout, the Hylian soldiers dashed toward their skeletal opponents with Link spearheading the charge. Both the Stalfos and the cornered villagers only now registered their arrival, and and the skeletons turned around to face their new enemies. Link attacked the biggest one of them, bearing down on him with his sword, trying to overpower him as fast as possible while also keeping an eye on his men. They were doing as he had ordered them and created a shield wall around the Stalfos, taking only a few quick stabs at them.

_Good_, Link thought, _now if these men react quickly, this will be over in an instant._

The cornered villagers did not fail to use the opportunity provided by the arrival of Link's men: Free to attack the Stalfos from behind, they quickly brought down several of them, sending them to the ground in a pile of bones. The skeletons, seeing several of their numbers fall, turned around again in confusion, and Link's recruits began fiercely attacking the Stalfos.

Link managed to decapitate his opponent, who had not been stupid enough to turn his back but was still distracted by the chaos around him, and in less than a minute, all of the Stalfos lay broken on the ground. Link overlooked his men, but nobody seemed injured. He carefully inspected the piles of bones, but although he had heard of Stalfos magically reassembling after their destruction, these ones did not seem to have that ability, because they did not stir again.

"Thank you so much," one club-wielding villager addressed Link. "Without your intervention, we would be dead, and our village... I don't know. Thank you."

"Not a problem," Link replied. "Take it easy for a minute and take some deep breaths," he told his exhausted soldiers. "But keep an eye open!"

"They came from the crypt," another villager said, barely keeping his voice steady. "The crypt where they buried the dead soldiers after the battle against the Katalonians, thirty years ago! They were all buried with their weapons, so if-"

"We'll take care of it, if you show us to this crypt."

"I'll do that. Follow me."

"You heard the man! Breaktime is over!"

Though breaktime had barely lasted half a minute, none of the soldiers complained, for the seriousness of the situation was evident, and they fell in line behind Link, who in turn followed the villagers. As his wheezing and sweating unit passed through the streets, cheers resounded from many inhabitants cautiously looking out of their windows.

_So far they've done well. Not that they've really been tested, but at least nobody got themselves killed. I can only hope it stays that way._

They encountered three more Stalfos on their way, and Link cut each of them down before they could threaten anybody else. They arrived at the graveyard, and the villager pointed to a small stone building whose door had been broken down from the outside.

"A staircase leads down into the tunnels from in there."

"The dead don't rise on their own;" Link said and pointed at the remains of the door."This looks like somebody broke in before the Stalfos broke out. I bet the source of our troubles is inside."

_So what to do now? If we go down a dark staircase, we can easily be ambushed. But if somebody's raising the skeletons, we must stop him before there are too many. Then again, we could always seal the entrance and call for help._

"Myself and three others will go down there and try to find out what's going on," Link said. "Who's feeling like they don't need a break?"

To his surprise, several volunteers quickly stepped forward.

"Good. The others form a perimeter around the entrance. If a Stalfos comes out, corner it and destroy it. You three, we'll light torches and leave all the other stuff we're carrying up here. I'll go first. If there's more down there than we can handle, we retreat orderly. That means running without screaming and handwaving."

He picked one recruit from the main group who had made a good impression on him the day before during exercise. "You're in charge aboveground. If we don't return after five, no, ten minutes, you'll send a message to the Keep and ask for reinforcements. Tell them to bring a wizard, too, to deal with the source of all this." He paused for a moment, considering whether he had something to add. He did.

"And if we don't come out again, you stay here and block the entrance until reinforcements arrive. You will not send people in to look for us. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good man," Link said, lighting his torch and putting his backpack on the ground. "We're going in."

He entered the small building, the three soldiers close behind him, and the rest of the unit formed a half-circle around the entrance as they moved down the stairs. The narrow tunnel was simply dug into the earth, without bricks or stones, supported by wooden beams in regular intervals, looking more like a mine than a crypt.

_They probably dug it in a hurry after losing a battle so close to the Keep._ Link shuddered._ I only hope I don't end up in a place like this. Or any of the other soldiers._

The small group had to walk in single file, which was just as well; at least this way, Link would be able to deal with any Stalfos coming at them. The flickering torches illuminated the way before them, but their light did not reach far. Link had his shield and torch raised, prepared to drop either at any moment to draw his sword, and moved forward.

They walked for several minutes, the slight downward slope of the tunnel leading them straight ahead, until they came into a huge, roughly circular room that had to be the crypt proper. Countless skeletons were lying on the ground, lined up row behind row, old Hylian swords and shields lying next to every one of them; the fallen of an army from the past. Only a small part of the room was illuminated, and Link could not tell whether there were any more tunnels leading out of there.

"Took you long enough," a deep voice said from somewhere in the shadows of the room. "I Was going to send more at you. More bone walkers. It's kind of fun, really."

"Stick together," Link whispered to the men behind him, and slowly advanced toward the voice, the torch's light radius moving along with him.

"Can't see in the dark?"

The voice did not sound like a Hylian's, but not like Link would a Stalfos expect to sound, either. Some other kind of monster, then?

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"Oh how nice. People never ask for my name. They don't think monsters have names, yes? You wouldn't ask if you could see me, I bet."

But Link could see him now: a tall, massive figure standing at the very centre of the room. He wore armour and held a strange, blue orb in his left hand, a long spear in his right. In the shadows, he might be mistaken for a ridiculously tall and powerfully-built Hylian... except for his face, which looked like that of an oversized pig; snout, ears and all.

_Moblin!_

Link had never seen one of their kind before, but had heard descriptions, and this one must be even bigger than a common Moblin. Numerous scars made his face even uglier, but there was a glint of intelligence in his eyes that did not seem to match its brutish appearance.

"Why don't you kneel, little men? I know Hylians kneel before kings. And I am Unthok, the King of all Moblins!"

Link recognized the name from countless hushed stories, usually involving Moblin raids on undefended villages that resulted in massacred militias, emptied granaries and panicked survivors. "It's an honour, your highness," he quipped. "Are you the one who raised the Stalfos?"

"Oh yes. That was me. Got your attention?"

"I didn't know Moblins knew much about magic."

"Smart little man. I got no clue about magic. But I don't have to. See this?" He slightly raised the hand carrying the blue orb. "This does the trick. Just hold it against a skeleton, and it walks again and fights again! For me. Which is so nice."

"Drop it, and we may spare your life!"

"So funny." The Moblin King laughed, spraying saliva from his snout. "If I drop it, it breaks. If it breaks, the smoke comes out. It comes out, every skeleton in here gets up and attacks you." He grinned. "Still want me to drop it?"

"Uh... no," Link said in confusion, wondering whether Unthok's threat was to be taken seriously. "Damn it, what do you even want?"

"Sorry. No, not really sorry. I would have dropped it anyway."

Before Link could react, Unthok let go of the orb, which shattered into a thousand tiny fragments when it hit the ground. Blue smoke rose up from it, slowly spreading all over the room.

"Oops, now I can't see in the dark anymore. You lend me a torch, nice little men?"

Link ignored Unthok, his mind racing. The blue smoke billowed above the ground, slowly moving. Wherever it came into contact with a skeleton, it started shaking. Already, the first ones were getting up and picking their weapons.

"What do we do? Sir, what do we do?" one of his companions asked, his voice trembling.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Unthok aped him. "Yes, what do you do? I think you should run."

_He's right_, Link had to admit. _Once this smoke reaches the skeletons we passed at the entrance, we're surrounded. And there's only one way out._

_But we also have to keep an eye on this Moblin!_

"Move together, all of you," Link told his men. "We move back to back, everyone looking in one direction. If a Stalfos comes near, warn me. Don't run unless I say so."

"Smart little man," the Moblin King praised him. "Now what about that torch?"

Link shook his head in disbelief at Unthok's gall. They slowly backed off, the rattling sounds of even more Stalfos all around them now. Behind them, too.

"Stop!" a soldier shouted. "Stalfos! Blocking the tunnel!"

_Damn it, we were too slow. I should have told them to run! Stupid!_

"Oh, surrounded? How bad for you," Unthok mocked. Link was of a mind to draw his sword and attack him, if only to drag him down with them. But there might still be a chance, and he probably was no match for the Moblin King, anyway.

"We try to break through on my mark," he whispered.

"Hey, little man. How about a deal?"

"SHUT UP!"

"No, listen. You give me a torch, I let you go. Sounds good?"

"Like we can believe you!" one of the three soldiers shouted.

"Look, we're both smart people," Unthok said to Link. "Good-looking, too, at least me. But even we make mistakes, see? I destroyed the magic orb without getting a torch. Now I can't see. You went in here with sooo few men. Now you will die. If we make the deal, then you don't die, and I can see. We're both happy! Moblins live to spread happiness. Can you believe it?"

_Is he trying to mock me, or negotiate with me? Or both? He's insane!_

By now, all the skeletons in the room had risen as Stalfos, standing at the ready, most of them standing in the dark beyond their torchlight, letting Link's hair stand on edge. They seemed to be waiting for the command of the Moblin King.

"Come on. It's a good deal for you. You made the bigger mistake."

Frustrated, Link threw his torch at the Moblin, and used the free hand to immediately draw his sword. _If he wants to kill us, he can do it anyway. It's at least worth a try._

Unthok handily caught the torch and smiled.

"I told you, you're a smart little man. Let them go."

Link turned around to make sure the skeletons obeyed, and the Stalfos blocking the tunnel really moved out of the way. He did not want to give Unthok the opportunity to go back on his word, so he shouted "Now! Go!" His men began running and he followed them, backtracking through the tunnels toward daylight. The Stalfos did not follow them, at least not immediately.

"That was one deal!" the voice of the Moblin King echoed through the tunnel. "Don't think we're friends now!"

_Thanks for the warning,_ Link thought grimly, _or I might have thought otherwise. What's with this Moblin?_

They reached the stairs and climbed them, leaving the small building that really only served to house the entrance to the crypt. The soldiers outside were visibly relieved when they returned, but Link could not allow them time for that: Unthok had given them a small head start, but he was certainly not going to stay in the crypt playing dice with the Stalfos.

_Actually, he seems weird enough to do just that. But I shouldn't count on it._

"We have to barricade the door!" Link approached the crowd of villagers that had gathered a safe distance away from the crypt entrance while they had been spelunking. "Get tables and crates and anything that's heavy!"

None of the villagers moved. Nobody seemed to be terribly eager to ruin their furniture just because Link told them to.

"There are hundreds of Stalfos down there, and they could come out any second! So if you want to have your village destroyed then just stay there and watch!"

That did the trick, and many villagers ran back to their homes, hopefully returning soon with many bulky objects. Link looked back at the crypt entrance. No movement there so far.

_What next? I mustn't forget anything important!_

He saw the soldier he had put in charge before standing nearby and remembered.

"Did you send the messenger?"

"I was just about to. It looks like nobody here has a horse, so I picked two reliable-looking fellows from the village to go on foot. Is that all right?"

"Yes, good thinking. None of us could run much longer without our legs going on strike, and we need every swordarm we have if the Stalfos break out. Send those two out, and tell them to run like the devil is chasing them."

"Ready? Not ready?" a familiar voice suddenly resounded from below, and a burning torch came flying up the stairs, making the soldiers guarding the door back off. "I don't care! Here I come!"

"It's the Moblin!" Link exclaimed, drew his sword and ran toward the crypt entrance. But he was too late: Unthok was already charging up the stairs at enormous speed, and impaled an unfortunate recruit on his heavy spear. Terrified, his comrades drew back, giving him time to shake off the body which slumped lifelessly to the ground. Link screamed in anger, still too far away to intervene, and saw another soldier gather his courage and attack Unthok. But he had missed his opportunity: With his spear usable once more, the Moblin King sidestepped his clumsy thrust and almost playfully stabbed his throat, effecting a terrible, gurgling scream.

_You're not killing any more of my men, damn you!_

Link finally reached the monster and engaged him. "I can take him," he shouted. "You build the barricade! The Stalfos could be coming any second!" Most soldiers obeyed and ran off, helping the first villagers who were returning with heavy objects. Several of them stayed, however, slowly gathering their courage.

"You can take me?" Unthok snorted. "You're good at funny."

With a quick stab at his right hand, Unthok sent Link's shield flying. Link cursed and prepared to parry the next strike, but his opponent was distracted by a soldier who attacked him from behind. The young man was only knocked back when the Moblin's shoulder hit him. Link used the opportunity to lunge at the Moblin King, but only managed to land a glancing blow on his armoured torso. Unthok's spear, in turn, glanced Link's shoulder, and the force of the thrust sent him to the ground. He had to suppress the instinct of trying to get up – the Moblin King surely would impale him before he was on his feet – and rolled sidewards through the mud, away from him, before getting up at a safe distance.

The piggish monster was now facing several of the recruits, and Link was approaching him again. A throng of villagers armed with clubs and knives was also slowly walking toward the Moblin King, trying to chase off their own fear by loudly cursing him. Unthok pointed his spear at the soldiers, then Link, then the villagers, then Link again. He grunted, realizing that there was no way he could fight them all off on his own.

"Not good. Way too many weaklings. I say we adjourn."

Before anybody could react, Unthok turned around and ran toward the open plain, casually shouldering his heavy spear. The soldiers gave chase, but in spite of his bulk and his plate armour, he was faster than them, and Link shouted after them to stop. He, too, wanted desperately to give chase, to avenge the two soldiers the Moblin had killed, but he forced himself to remain rational and focus on the more important task at hand. He hurried toward the crypt entrance, biting his lips as he passed the two dead bodies, realizing that he would have to ask their comrades for their names. Somehow, that fact saddened him more than it probably should.

"Still nothing, Sir," a soldier reported as Link reached the barricade. "No sounds, no movement. Why aren't they trying go break through?"

"Maybe the magic that re-animated them vanished together with the Moblin?" another soldier offered._  
_ "That's unlikely," Link said. "Stalfos can lay in wait for a long time, even if the wizard who raised them is long dead."

"Maybe they're just waiting for us to come in?"

"Yes, that's a possibility," Link admitted, although the thought of all the skeletal warriors simply standing in the large room where they had once been laid to rest, waiting in utter darkness for anyone to enter, was very unnerving.

_That large room... in the darkness... we couldn't even see most of the walls..._

Link frantically looked around, trying to find the man who had led them to the crypt. There were now many villagers around, some helping with the barricade, many others just watching. He could not find him, so he simply addressed the whole crowd.

"Listen to me! This is important! Are there any other entrances to the crypt? Even old ones that were filled up?"

He was answered by shrugs and other non-committal gestures. "Nobody ever goes down there," a woman shouted. "It's a creepy place." Others echoed her sentiment. Just as Link was about to give up, an old man with a long beard came forward and spoke with a frail voice.

"Bah, only young people in this village. Nobody remembers anything anymore. Do you see that house over there?" he asked and pointed at a building half a mile beyond the graveyard. Link could barely recognize it, but even from this distance, it was obvious that the house was a ruin and long abandoned.

"What about it?" he asked. "Does this have anything to do with-"

"Will you just listen, youngster?" the old man barked at him, his voice forceful for a second. "That was old Berrin's house. He was paranoid and – oh never mind that, at any rate, he had his family dig a whole network of tunnels below the ground, and several huge rooms to live there. He moved his entire household down there and – well, it's a gruesome story. Let's skip it," he added, noticing Link's impatient gaze. "In the end, a party of villagers who found the nerve went down there and cleaned out the place. I was with them, fifty years ago, and it was not a pretty sight. The worst part? They discovered that he had dug another tunnel ending right next to the graveyard, so he could sneak out at night and – well, they nailed all the tunnels shut and let the house go to ruin."

Link realized how the story was going to end, and finished it for the old man.

"Twenty years later, after the battle nearby, they needed a place to bury all the dead," he said, hoping that the old man would interrupt him, screaming 'wrong!', but he had no such luck.

"Somebody remembered the underground rooms and they opened this tunnel over here. They put the dead in there and turned it into a crypt. And that means there are tunnels leading from the crypt to that house." His eyes returned to the ruin beyond the graveyard. This time, he could see several white figures moving around the house, no, _out of the house_. Toward the village.

"If we're fast enough, we could-" a soldier said, but Link cut him off.

"It's already too late." His mind was racing in circles right about now. There was no way his twenty fresh recruits could fight off hundreds of Stalfos. He had no idea what to do.

"Evacuate the village," was the only thing he could say. "They're coming."


	10. In the Centre of His Web

**Chapter 10: In the Centre of His Web**

The door to the royal throne room flew open, and Prince Darion came running inside, looking exhausted and dishevelled. Malark had been waiting for him for some time now, patiently sitting on his usual chair next to the empty throne. He had been watching the afternoon sun shine through the stained-glass windows, bathing the throne room in a multitude of colours. In spite of the Sheikah's reputation as 'Shadow People', even he could appreciate the beauty of this sight.

"Malark? Where's my father?" the prince demanded as two guards hurried to close the door behind him in an attempt to preserve discretion.

"Your highness," Malark rasped, his voice as dry as parchment "You were supposed to come here first thing in the morning! As you indubitably can imagine, the king is livid."

"Thank you, I guessed as much," the young man snapped. "Where is he?"

"In his private chambers," Malark answered truthfully. "He grew tired of waiting." He critically inspected the prince, pointing at the blades of straw stuck in his unkempt hair. "Have you been sleeping in the stables?" Of course that last question was superfluous: The wizard knew he had.

"That was because of...hey, don't lecture me on my appearance! Let me see him!"

_Serves you right for giving me such a hard time, my dear prince. Why couldn't you sleep in your room like any sane person? You almost ruined my carefully woven plan!_

Shuddering, Malark recalled the previous night, how he had been scurrying through the dark corridors of the Keep desperately trying to find the prince before sunrise. His room had been unlocked and empty, with slight traces of magic permeating the air. The night watch had confirmed the prince's arrival, and so Malark had combed through the entire building before finally finding him asleep in the stables, of all places. There, he had administered his sleeping potion, careful not to wake Darion. A sleeping spell would have been easier, of course, but another magic user would have detected its traces easily.

_It all worked out in the end. And now you're here, right on schedule. Which is to say, six hours too late. Thank fate the horsegrooms didn't have the guts to wake him._

"Let me see him!" the prince demanded again, clenching his fists and glaring at the old Sheikah wizard.

_Am I supposed to be... intimidated?_

"His majesty has locked the way behind him," Malark replied calmly, referring to the corridor leading from behind the throne to the king's private chambers, "and wishes to be alone in his anger."

"But you know the mechanism to open the way from this side! He wanted to see me, so here I am! Open it!"

Malark frowned at the prince and coldly replied: "I know how to open it because the king trusts me to only do so in the case of emergency. I mean no disrespect, but the prince oversleeping is not an emergency."

"If you don't open it, I'll get Arnu to do it! She is the other person who knows!"

"And she favours you enough to actually do it. But still..." Malark sighed sympathetically. "Look, Prince Darion, I understand that you're embarrassed and angry at yourself for oversleeping at such an inopportune time. And that you're afraid of the king's wrath."

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Of course not." Malark nodded sympathetically. "Regardless, believe me when I tell you that it would be a bad idea for you to see your father now. You know he isn't quick to anger, but if anger does seize him... well, your talking to him now would only make the situation worse."

"So what do you think I _can_ do?" Darion looked hopeless. "I have to talk to him. Clear up this misunderstanding."

Malark rose from his chair and, in a deliberate breach of protocol, gently patted the prince's shoulder, hoping the gesture would have the desired effect.

_I don't think I've ever done this before_, he realized. _It feels so silly._

"Very well," he said. "I've known your father for longer than you have been alive, and I trust he will listen to me even in his current mood. I'll talk to him. Try to put in a good word for you."

"You would do that?" Darion did not attempt to hide his surprise. "I didn't know you were – I mean, thank you, Malark. I appreciate it."

The Sheikah wizard smiled to himself as he approached the door behind the throne and pulled the hidden levers in the proper order, releasing the lock.

"Please wait here for my return."

The prince nodded, and Malark closed the door behind him, taking great care to lock it again. Then he hurried down the empty corridor and knocked at the door to the king's chambers.

"Enter," Artaxis said, and Malark did as told. "Ah, Malark, please have a seat."

The king was sitting on one of the two red armchairs in the large room that served as his retreat as well as a place to talk face to face with a confidant without being bound by the chains of formality; numerous paintings and a genuine fireplace completed the impression of cosiness. The king's demeanour was calm, with subtle hints of the ever-present concern which Malark so loathed. The king was always concerned about something! However, in spite of what the wizard had told Darion, Artaxis was not angry or furious at all

"You come concerning my son? Is he finally here? We have to put this sorry affair behind us."

"I... I'm not sure how to put this," Malark stuttered, hoping that his performance was believable. He ignored the king's offer to seat himself and tapped his feet, feigning nervousness. "The prince has indeed arrived, but when I urged him to see you, he told me... that he had better things to do."

The king stared at his senior advisor as though he had just turned into a frog.

"Darion said that?"

"I'm afraid he did. He also said other things, but I am loath to repeat them..."

"Do it!"

Malark bit his lower lips and nodded.

"He said there was no reason for him to see... please forgive me for quoting him... 'the senile old coot', and that he would simply wait for him to... ahem... 'croak'."

Malark's words did not fail to achieve the desired effect, for the old king brought down both of his fists on his desk and glared at his advisor.

"And I thought his words back then were a slip of the tongue! A thoughtless gaffe, to be corrected with a sincere apology! Does he even have the slightest idea of the consequences this will have for him?"

"Of course I told him not to speak of you like that, but... he said he did not care, that you were to weak to do anything about it. That you are afraid of using your power."

"So it's still about the Triforce, isn't it?" Artaxis asked and pounded the desk again. "Blast me, I should never have shown it to that impudent... no, I'm not going to curse my own family." The king brought his bony fist down on the desk for a third time. "Where is he now? I'm going to teach him a lesson that he'll-"

"Your majesty, please calm yourself. Remember that he's your heir! You should not so readily burn the bridge between the two of you!"

"I have more than one heir for precisely this reason," the king snarled.

"Please, I implore you, don't act prematurely! If you talk to him now, you'll only make the situation worse!"

"Don't presume to tell me what to do, _advisor._"

Malark lowered his head as if in shame.

"I humbly apologize for offering bad advice."

That phrase had its expected effect on the king, who always used to tell his confidants that there was no such thing as bad advice. He shook his head, appalled by his own words.

"I'm the one who should apologize, Malark. You simply gave me a piece of your mind, which is why I keep you around. I spoke without thinking."

The wizard had to hold back laughter and went for a grateful smile instead.

"Still, Darion overstepped his boundaries, and that must be addressed. Bring him to me immediately. I will try to compose myself in the meantime."

"As you wish, your majesty. But what if he refuses?"

"Tell him I'll disinherit him if he doesn't show up. That should get his attention."

"That's not a threat to be made lightly, your highness," Malark said carefully. "He may think you're bluffing."

"Trust me, Malark, I'm not bluffing. I know some think me overly lenient, but even I can only be pushed so far. Make that perfectly clear to him."

"As you wish. I will return with the prince as fast as I can."

Malark left the room and made his way through the corridor back into the throne room.

_Everything is going well so far. But I mustn't get careless now! Some pieces still have to fall into place..._

He expected Darion to nervously wait for him in the throne room, but instead he found him in an agitated conversation with a tall man in white armour whom Malark immediately recognized. He walked up to the two men who did not even notice his appearance and cleared his throat.

"Ah, Malark," the armoured man said upon noticing him, "thank goodness you're coming out. I had just sent for Arnu, fearing you might stay in there much longer."

"How can I help you, General Thallius?" Malark said with the coolness of voice that was expected of him.

"I need you to come with me, right now. We have a situation."

Malark looked at the knight, then at the prince.

"I'm afraid that has to wait. We're having a situation of our own right here, and it is very... delicate, as I'm sure the prince can attest to."

"Listen to me, man, it's an emergency!" Thallius seemed almost about to seize Malark by the shoulders and shake him, but shied away from it at the last instant. "Gadrin village is infested with Stalfos, hundreds of them according to the messengers! Some young recruits are trying to contain them, but there's no telling how long they can keep it up. I've assembled my knights to deal with it, but I need somebody who can make sure there's no evil magic left in them once we've taken them down."

_Excellent_, Malark thought._ I knew I could rely on Unthok. The timing couldn't be more perfect._

"This is horrible," he replied, sounding suitably shaken, yet not overly emotional. "I remember the battle that took place near that village... some dark wizard must have raised the fallen who were buried there."

"Yes, we can talk about this as we ride," Thallius urged him. "There's no time to lose! Follow me to the stables!"

"Wait, Thallius! I don't think I'm the most suitable-"

"What is this all about, Thallius?" a female voice came from the throne room's entrance. "Your man talked about Stalfos?"

His former student Arnu had entered the room and strode toward the three men. For the first time in his life, Malark was happy to see her.

_And there I thought I'd have a hard time convincing Thallius to take Arnu with him, but he even summoned her himself! It's as if I'm fated to succeed!_

"Thallius," he said before the knight could answer Arnu's question, " believe me when I say that the situation I'm trying to defuse here is very important for the future of Hyrule. Just take Arnu with you in my stead; I can assure you that she is just a capable as myself."

"Now that's something I've never heard you say before," Arnu remarked in surprise. "Would you please fill me in?"

_My, the things these people make me say..._

Thallius looked at Malark, then at Darion, who had been watching the entire exchange nervously from the sidelines. Ever since Artaxis had returned from the Sacred Realm, everybody at court knew that a gulf had opened between the king and his heir, although few knew about the details. Thallius had evidently heard the rumours, and surely wanted to see the royal quarrel settled as soon as possible.

"Well, if there's a dark wizard there, we can kill him ourselves, but we need wizard for the investigation afterwards. So it doesn't really matter which one of you is coming." He addressed Arnu. "Follow me, fast! I'll tell you all about it as we go. Believe me, it's an emergency."

"Of course I believe you." She eyed Darion and Malark suspiciously, but Thallius was already running toward the door and beckoned her to follow. "Fine," she shrugged, and seconds later, she and the general had left the throne room. Guards came running in once more to hastily close the door, and Malark and the prince were alone again.

_Take your time killing those Stalfos. There must be enough dead soldiers down there to keep even the Knights of Hyrule occupied for a while._

"Thank you for not telling them anything," Darion interrupted Malark's thoughts.

"This is still a matter between the two of two," the wizard replied. "Although I fear it may not stay that way."

"What do you mean by that? What did father say?"

_This is the critical part,_ he thought. _I must be very convincing..._

"I'm afraid my attempt to reason with him was no good. His majesty is in a mood most foul. He even threatened to bar you from succeeding him as king one day."

"He did what?" Darion gasped. "But I'm right here, ready to apologize! He isn't making any sense! I'm going to see him now. Open the door!"

"No, listen to me!" Malark raised his hands and moved closer to Darion. "His majesty does not want to see you right now. He was very... empathetic about it. He told me to make it perfectly clear to you that if you have the gall to go to him at this time, he'll disinherit you on the spot."

Darion weakly collapsed into the empty throne, unaware of the irony inherent in that. He almost looked like he was about to cry.

"What does he want me to do? How can I apologize if he won't see me?"

"Not all is lost," Malark told him. "I know your father well. These bouts of anger are extremely rare for him, but they never last longer than a few days! If you just stay out of his sight for a while, he will calm down, I'm convinced of that."

"You're just saying that."

"No! In fact, there was a similar incident involving your mother decades ago – I shouldn't even tell you that, but he screamed about divorcing her and casting her out! After she left the Keep for two days, he was almost begging her to return."

Of course not a word of this story was true, but Darion was not in a condition to be very skeptical; on the contrary, he was ready to grasp any lifeline Malark would throw at him.

"If you're so sure... well, it's not like I have any other options."

He rose from the throne and coughed, trying to regain his composure. Malark smiled at him with great understanding.

"Just stay at an inn in Keeptown, or travel to one of the outlying villages. In your absence, I will do everything in my power to keep you in his majesty's good graces."

"Thank you for being so helpful, Malark," Darion said as he walked toward the door. "I feel kind of bad... I think I misjudged you."

_No need to thank a kind and altruistic soul like me_, Malark almost said, amused at how easily emotions were manipulated, but that would have been a bit too much. He had to stay in character, at least for a little while longer.

"Your father is old, and we both know he can't live forever, and as much as I admire your sister's scholarly leanings, I think you'd make a better ruler. I'm doing this for Hyrule's sake, not for yours, if I may be so blunt."

Darion gave him a wry smile. "That sounds more like the Malark I know. I'll be back in three days. In the meantime, take care of my father." With that, the prince left the throne room and closed the door behind him.

"Oh, I will take care of him," Malark whispered. "You can be sure of that. Now, for the final part of this beautiful charade."

He returned to the king's chambers, where Artaxis was already anxiously waiting for him. He kept his gaze downcast, and only met the eyes of the king after a minute had passed in order to unnerve him before delivering the coup de grace.

"I found your son in the stables," he whispered. "He's not coming. He told me you didn't have the... the courage to disown him. Then he rode off to hunt boars. At least that's what he said."

Silence fell over the room. The king had to make one last step, and all of Malark's designs would come to fruition. But trying to push him now would be dangerous; he had to make that last step for himself. Malark had laid the groundwork. Now he just had to wait.

Minutes passed. Both men in the room seemed frozen in time, neither of them moving or talking. Malark became slightly nervous and decided to give the king an ever-so-gentle nudge.

"Your majesty, no matter what you decide regarding the prince, please know that I'll fully support your decision."

His words woke the king from his stupor. He firmly put his palms on the table before him and looked Malark in the eyes.

"I already sacrificed my Vera for the sake of the kingdom, and she was the most important person in my life. My son threatens me in front of my soldiers and then dares to spit at the hand extended to him in reconciliation? I'll not hesitate another second to cast him out!"

_Success!_

The king stomped to his nearby desk and rummaged through the drawers, producing a piece of parchment, a quill and a glass of ink. He started scribbling furiously, then thought better of it, tore the parchment in half, took a new one, and sat down before his desk, taking a deep breath.

"This will be an official document," he told Malark who was watching him with barely concealed glee, "so it has to be readable." He put the quill to the parchment and began writing again, this time more carefully, with the ornate scripture one expected of royal decrees, reading the words aloud as he wrote them down.

"His Royal Highness King Artaxis the First hereby decrees that his son Darion be forever barred from the throne of Hyrule, as punishment for the disrespectful and insolent words he so boldly directed at his Sire." He put down the quill and looked visibly exhausted, as if writing these words had required all of his strength.

"Malark, please fetch the molten wax," he said. "It's in that clay vessel hanging over the fireplace."

Not usually fond of menial task, the wizard gladly assisted the king and wrapped a piece of cloth around the hot bowl, placing it on the table next to the king, almost pouring its contents over him in the excitement. He stepped back from the desk and took several deep breaths, reminding himself that he had to act like a sorrowful advisor assisting his king in a regrettable task.

Artaxis poured a small quantity of red wax on the bottom of the parchment and produced an embossed stamp from another drawer. He clasped it tightly and held it over the rough circle of liquid wax, hesitating.

"Can I really do this? In spite of everything, he is my firstborn son."

Malark had to bite back a frustrated remark, and said sagely: "You are a king as well as a father. Ask yourself which is more important."

The king nodded, but still hesitated to press down the stamp, thus imprinting the royal seal on the parchment, which in addition to his signature made it an official document. He waited until Malark could almost not take it anymore.

_Delay much longer and I'll do the final part myself! The wax is already drying!_

"He said you were weak," Malark whispered, "do you want to prove him right?"

"'I'm not weak," Artaxis answered. "I never was." He brought down the embossing stamp and applied steady pressure until the wax had dried, then he immediately curled the parchment into a scroll and used a string to tie a knot around it.

"It is done."

_You certainly took your time, old man._

Malark almost giggled at that thought, after all, he was older than the king by at least two decades. But magic users aged far more slowly, and he was nowhere near to being decrepit.

"I'm parched," the king muttered as he picked up the scroll and walked toward the door. "Please prepare a glass of water while I'm taking this to the registrar."

"I can do that for you," Malark offered, but the king shook his head.

"I have to do this myself. He is my son, after all. Please, do fetch me something to drink for when I return."

"As you wish," Malark said and watched Artaxis depart.

_That way, I have time to prepare the last scene of the final act for you, your highness._

Malark looked around the fireplace and found a dusty golden goblet standing on its ledge, as well as a bucket of water right on the floor next to it. It was not exactly a drink fit for kings, but he was certain Artaxis would not mind, and filled the goblet to the rim. He peeked out of the room's only window, making doubly sure that nobody was outside who might see him, and produced a small capsule from his black robe, emptying its contents, a white powder, into the goblet. It dissolved immediately without clouding the water, and Malark put the empty capsule back to dispose of it later.

_Just one sip, and our beloved king will be joining the Goddesses up in heaven before the sun sets. And with Darion removed from the line of succession, and Zelda soon to fall victim to an assassination plot, the toddler prince Kyrus will ascend to the throne. Arnu is busy hunting skeletons with Thallius, and none of the other sages will be able to oppose me! I will be appointed regent, and the soldiers at the portal to the Sacred Realm will no longer bar my way!_

"Triforce," he whispered. The artifact that would grant him the power of the Gods! And who would know how to properly use it if not himself? Certainly none of the degenerates in the royal family! The Sheikah had been bowing to the King of Hyrule for so many centuries that few but Malark knew how this sorry state of affairs had even begun! And worst of all, they embraced their servitude, calling it 'fealty'! Took pride in it, because they knew nothing better!

But Malark would change all that. He would turn the tables and make the Hylians his servants. That had been his wish for so very long, but he had never been powerful enough to actually try and fulfill it. Until that fateful day, not even a week ago, when the foolish king had taken him and his witless son to the Triforce.

_To think that he kept it a secret from me for so long! But he only managed that because he almost never used it, sneaking into this Sacred Realm only thrice in his lifetime!_

For a moment, Malark idly wondered why Artaxis had even decided to bring him along on his third visit to the Triforce, but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

_Thank you for showing me the means to overthrow your dynasty, King Artaxis. And thank you, too, for not saving your queen's life. If she had been still around, always at your side, I'd never been able to pull this off!_

He would have continued his silent gloating for a little bit longer, but the king returned, forcing him again to pretend that he was deeply saddened by the events.

"It is finished," he said, sitting down at the table. "I will make the official announcement tomorrow. For today... I think I'll just go to bed early."

"A good idea, my king. This must have been one of the hardest decisions in your life."

Malark took the goblet and casually handed it over to the king. "Water, as you requested."

"Ah, thank you," the king sighed and put the goblet to his lips, emptying it with a single draught. Malark could almost hear the sound of the gears falling together in his head.

_All according to plan..._

The king put the empty goblet down; if the poison was anything but tasteless (and Malark's test subjects had assured him that it was, before succumbing to it), he did not seem to mind.

"You may leave me now," he said and walked to the massive bed at the other end of the room, lying down without changing into his nightshirt.

"I'm always at your service, your majesty."

"Oh, I almost forgot! There's one more thing I need you to do!"

"Name it."

"Send a soldier on horseback to Zora's Domain, to bring back my daughter immediately. She'll have to be prepared for her task as the coming queen. After all, who knows how much time I have left."

_I do._

"Of course," Malark said, having no intention of actually sending somebody, for Zelda would be joining her father within a day. "Good night, my king."

Malark slowly closed the door behind him and triumphantly strode back through the corridor into the empty throne room. He almost sat down on the throne, but restrained himself; it would look very suspicious if someone suddenly entered.

_No mistakes! Not now, that I've almost won! No trying to speed things up, either!_

In truth, a part of him wanted to go right back and strangle the king in his sleep, or set him ablaze with a fireball. But of course that would be stupid beyond belief. People would already question the strange coincidence between the prince's disowning and the king's death, but as long as his death appeared natural, there would be no proof of anything. And he had tested the poison on several test subjects: He knew that it simply made the heart stop after several hours, making it appear as though the victim had passed on naturally in his sleep. When the king would fail to rise in the next morning, the servants would call Malark to open the door for him, and he would be suitably shocked upon finding him dead.

_I've waited for sixty years_, he told himself as he left the empty throne room and instructed the guards that the king wished not to be disturbed before morning. _I can wait for one last night._


	11. A Textbook Case of Bad Timing

**Chapter 11: A Textbook Case of Bad Timing**

Members of the Gerudo tribe were an uncommon sight in Keeptown, as only very few of them were allowed to enter the city in search for work at one time, or so Kotake had been told. And even those few who were allowed to live there for a limited time never congregated, always painfully aware of the deep-running suspicions of conspiracy the Hylians held against them whenever two of their kind talked to each other. Which was why the three proud Gerudo walking upright and unashamed through Keeptown in the late evening caused a significant stir. The fact that they were being escorted by two Hylian soldiers in the direction of the Keep did not help things.

"Are they prisoners?"

"What did those desert mongrels do?

"Throw out the man and let us keep the women!"

Although they each used different letters, the races of Hyrule all spoke one language, minor regional variations nonwithstanding, and so the three Gerudo could understand every single one of the insults, slurs and ribaldries thrown at them. Kotake had expected no other treatment, but Garanth was visibly disappointed.

"So much for _their_ good will," she said, forced to raise her voice over the clamour. "We can still turn back, you know that. Their king will probably add insult to injury and accuse us of causing a riot."

"It is true that their behaviour angers me," Garanth answered, "but I will not judge a king by his people. If Artaxis is every bit as closed-minded as his citizens, I will concede that you were right, but not before."

"I didn't think it would be that bad," Koume said as the group passed through a massive gate, entering the Keep proper. "You'd think they'd be in a better mood, now that the plague has completely vanished."

The group was now walking through the carpeted corridors of the Keep, occasionally passing a servant or guardsman who eyed them with surprise or suspicion, but all of them were at least professional enough not to voice their prejudices.

"What was that all about, anyway?" Garanth asked. "I barely believed your words when you told me about the plague simply disappearing, but there aren't any sick here at all."

Kotake sneered. "They probably heard that almost no Gerudo died from it, which makes them hate us more."

"Please, do not judge our people too harshly," the soldier on their right, a middle-aged man with a long scar across his cheek, interjected. "Consider that the ones who don't hate your kind are nowhere near as vocal as those who do."

Garanth nodded. "You are right. They may be many, but there could be just as many who are embarrassed by their behaviour."

_He's so easily placated, it's almost sad. _

"If there are Hylians who don't hate us, why aren't they speaking up?" Kotake demanded.

"The voice of reason is easily drowned out," the soldier replied. "All the more reason for you not to be so easily discouraged."

"This has nothing to do with courage," Kotake hissed, but before the soldier could retort anything, they were stopped by two other guards who were guarding a wide double door.

"This is the throne room," their second guard said while his scarred comrade explained the situation to the guards. They talked for a minute with hushed voices, then one of them quickly left and went down the corridor in the other direction.

"His majesty has already retired," he explained. "We're trying to find one of his confidants to decide what to do with you."

"What do you mean, 'do with us'," Koume asked sharply. "Are you going to send us back?"

"Of course not! But we should not wake the king against his wishes. For today, you can talk with one of the sages, or perhaps even the prince, and you'll be shown quarters in the Keep, so you can meet the king tomorrow. Surely that's acceptable?"

"We hurried all the way here as we got that letter, practically without a break, and the king won't see us because he's tired?" Koume sounded angry. "Is he trying to mock us?"

"Don't listen to them," Garanth said to the guard, "I just brought them here because of their looks. I know that King Artaxis is an old man, and I wouldn't begrudge him his sleep. Waiting until tomorrow will be fine."

"It certainly isn't fine with me," Kotake mumbled, "I have better things to do."

"Can't you shut up these wenches?" the second member of their escort suddenly snapped at Garanth.

"What did you call us?" the sisters snarled simultaneously.

"Soldier, you are out of line!" the scarred guardsman told his comrade.

"Yes, Sir! Excuse me."

The atmosphere was strained, although Garanth and the soldier with the scar seemed to be the only ones troubled by that. Before any more harsh words could be exchanged, the guard who had gone off earlier returned, followed by an ominous figure enshrouded in a black cloak, his red eyes the only feature visible under his hood. The three Gerudo were slightly startled by his appearance, while the soldiers were obviously used to him.

_Red eyes, black clothing... he must be one of those Sheikah, the Shadow People who devote their lives to serving the royal family. Sounds more like slaves than servants, really._

"So, you are the Gerudo King," the man said upon reaching them, his rasping voice calm but carrying subtle hints of irritation. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to show up here at all. I supposed his majesty's optimism in that regards was not unfounded."

"He believed I would come?" Garanth seemed relieved. "I'm happy to hear that, Sir... would you honour me with your name?"

"My name is Malark. I am in the employ and the confidence of his majesty."

"I am Garanth, the Gerudo King. This is my honour guard, Koume and Kotake."

"My pleasure," Malark said absently. It was easy to tell that he had his mind on different matters. "But as I'm sure you already know, the king is abed, so you won't be able to..." He paused, his eyes suddenly shifting, as though he had just had an idea. He stared into space for a few seconds, then suddenly threw his hood back, revealing a pale, sunken face and receding grey hair.

"Actually," he said with a much more pleasant tone than seconds ago, "I just remembered how much King Artaxis was looking forward to this meeting. Please do forgive me, I was distracted by profound considerations."

_Why so friendly all of a sudden? _Kotake wondered.

"Now that I think of it, I believe the king would not mind if we were to wake him right now. In fact, I seem to recall that he insisted we do so in case you arrived during his sleep."

"Wonderful," Garanth said, completely oblivious to the old man's sudden shift in attitude. Kotake could only shake her head at his naiveté, although she could merely speculate about his reasons. She looked at Koume, but her sister had no idea either and simply shrugged.

"Please open the door," Malark told the guards. "In the event that I am wrong and the king is displeased, I will take responsibility. Oh, and the two of you may go back to your regular duties. Thank you for escorting our guests all the way here."

The two soldiers saluted and marched off, while one of the guards opened the door, allowing the three Gerudo and Malark inside.

The throne room was the largest room any of the three Gerudo had ever seen – not even the central sanctum of the Spirit Temple could compare – but completely empty and almost devoid of furniture safe for the large throne and a number of lesser chairs on its sides. Evidently, it had been built to impress, which was reason enough for Kotake to refuse being impressed.

_What a waste of space,_ she thought. _These people don't know how good they have it..._

"Please wait here while I open the door that leads to the king," she heard Malark say as he vanished behind the throne. In the meantime, Kotake looked at the stained glass windows that seemed to depict mythological events; three golden women in the sky were a recurring motive. She rolled her eyes, wondering how people could believe such silly stories, let alone devote time and resources to capure them in works of art.

"The king's private chambers are at the end of the corridor," Malark told Garanth upon his return; Kotake could see that he had opened some sort of secret passageway. "Feel free to enter without knocking and wake him up."

"Uh... shouldn't you be the one doing that? He doesn't even know my face, and I might frighten him."

Malark made a grating sound, and it took Kotake a second to identify it as laughter.

"Be not concerned," he told Garanth. "The king may be old, but he is not frail, nor easily frightened."

"If you say so..." The Gerudo King looked unconvinced, but also unwilling to disagree.

"But before you go, you must allow me to search you for weapons. Not that I don't trust you, but it's standard procedure for any guest. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, go ahead."

Kotake let go an exaggerated groan as Garanth allowed the old Sheikah to approach him and inspect his garments with his eyes and hands. Did that man have absolutely no concept of personal safety? Not that this old man was likely to try anything, but it was a matter of principle: One should never let an untrustworthy person get that close to oneself.

"I'm afraid your companions will have to stay with me," Malark continued after concluding his search to his satisfaction, "unless they want to part with their blades."

"Not a chance," Koume said, taking the words out of her sister's mouth. They were in a massive stone building surrounded by an unknown number of Hylian soldiers who surely would not mind an accident befalling the desert rats, and their sabres, as well as their wits, were their only safeguard against that.

"Then please make yourself comfortable while the two monarchs are conversing. If they get off to a good start, they are bound to talk for a while."

"And don't even think about collecting 'souvenirs'," Garanth cautioned them before entering the secret corridor to see the king, leaving the sisters and Malark behind. A silence settled over the throne room that might have been considered awkward if either of the people inside had been that sensitive. Instead, Koume and Kotake unabashedly stared at the old man, who in turn examined them like specimens of an unknown species. Surely he had seen a Gerudo before in his long life? Or was he simply an old lecher?

"Are you a Sheikah?" Koume broke the silence.

"I am indeed. I have served the king for most of my lifetime and distinguished myself."

"And you are fine with that?" Kotake asked. "Serving him, I mean."

For a split second, something glinted in the eyes of the old man, something that had been carefully concealed before: Hatred. It was one of the emotions Kotake recognized only too well, but it did not seem to be directed at them... no, it had something to do with the question Koume had asked. But as soon as it had appeared, the sparkle in his eyes vanished.

"The world works the way it does," Malark replied with deceptive calm. "It would take more than the power of a man to change it."

"But if you could... would you change it?"

Before Malark could answer – not that he could be expected to say anything that might be interpreted as disloyalty – the door leading to the king's chambers was thrown open, and Garanth barged out of the corridor, panting heavily.

"Your king... Malark! He is... I think he's dead!"

"What?" the twins and the Sheikah asked with once voice.

"I can't get him to move, and he isn't breathing! Come quickly!"

"What in heaven's name have you _done_ to him?" Malark demanded.

"Nothing!" Garanth replied with genuine outrage. "I called his name, and then I gently shook his shoulders! Now come quickly, maybe I'm wrong and you can save him still!"

The Sheikah cursed under his breath and followed the Gerudo King back through the corridor. Koume was about to join them, sabres or no sabres, but Kotake grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back.

"What is it?" she asked angrily. "I want to see the king, too!"

"Idiot!" Kotake hissed. "Take a wild guess who they're going to blame if he really is dead!"

"Oh come on," Koume whispered, although there was no one else in the room to warrant it. "Garanth is way too self-righteous to have done something like that!"

"Yes, Garanth knows that, and we know that," Kotake said, "but the Hylians don't know it! And they wouldn't care if they knew! They're going hold us responsible, mark my words!"

"But he was an old man. If it's a natural cause, there'll be no reason to blame anyone!"

"Ugh," Kotake moaned. "And there I thought only Garanth was naive."

This was not a natural death, Kotake knew. Malark's sudden change of mind, his insistence that Garanth go see the king alone... it was almost obvious.

"He's trying to frame us!" she hissed. "He killed his king, and probably laughed up his sleeves when three dupes he could pin it on just happened to come along."

"Who is 'he'?" Koume asked, but immediately answered her own question. "That old Sheikah!"

"Yes, now you realize how deep we are in it, dear sister," Kotake said. "We have to escape right now. I hope you won't fuss about killing Hylians anymore, because there's no way we'll get out of here without doing exactly that."

"But... but..." Koume stuttered. "What about the king?"

"Didn't you listen? He's dead!"

"I mean _our_ king!"

"Oh, that one." Koume waved her hand. "Well, we didn't like him anyway. He can take the fall for us."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"Let me see... nope, not a bit."

"I'm going to get him," Koume said firmly. "He's still one of our tribe! We can't just abandon him like that!"

"Would he do the same for us if the situation was reversed?" Kotake asked.

"Yes, he would. And you know that."

_Touché._

"Fine, you win," Kotake sighed. "It's not like that old man is going to stop us."

But the twins did not even have to go, because Garanth re-appeared from the hidden corridor, followed directly by Malark whose icy stares pierced his back.

"Guards! Guards!" the old man's voice thundered with unexpected volume, echoing through the throne room. Before the sisters could do so much as curse, the double doors flew open and the two watchmen ran into the room.

"Our king is dead, and it may have been murder! Seize these people!"

"How often do I have to tell you-" Garanth began, but two of the soldiers immediately rushed in, discipline and Malark's commanding voice overcoming shock. One of them restrained Garanth while the other put his sword at the king's throat.

_This is very bad,_ Kotake thought. _We should have left immediately!_

"Order them to drop their weapons, or your blood will be spilled!" Malark told Garanth. "I promise you a fair and impartial investigation if they surrender!"

"Yeah right, fair and impartial," Kotake sneered.

"Is this how you treat a foreign ruler?" Garanth was outraged, although he knew better than to fight his captors. "Is this how you answer our gesture of goodwill?"

"You are not accused of anything yet, merely suspected," Malark replied. "But we must imprison you until we have found the truth. If the same situation had happened in reverse, would you not do the same?"

The Gerudo King hesitated. "You may have a point," he said. "But how can I be sure you'd be impartial?"

"Easy: We ask a Zora or a Goron to lead the investigation. That way, there'll be no racial bias."

"Oh shut up, you lying sack of filth!" Koume shouted before the king could answer. "It's obvious that you killed him, and that you're trying to frame us!"

If she had counted on Malark to be shocked, she was sorely disappointed: The old man did not even bother to deflect the accusation, nor did the soldiers seem inclined to believe her. To them, it must have sounded utterly ridiculous.

_This is no good, standing around here and talking! With every second we waste, he could call more soldiers! We have to act now!_

"I agree with being investigated," Garanth suddenly told Malark, "under one condition."

"You are not really in a position to make conditions," the Sheikah sighed, "but very well, name it."

"You will let these two women go!" Garanth demanded firmly. "They were never even in that room. There is no way you can deny their innocence."

_This is so noble, I think I'm going to puke_, Kotake thought. _I only hope he won't expect us to talk him out of this offer, because I have no problem sacrificing him in order to get out of here._

"You can't do this!" Koume shouted predictably. "We're still Gerudo! We leave together or not at all!"

"Hey, speak for yourself, sister!"

"All right!" Malark shouted, cutting their argument short. "The two are free, whether to return to the desert or stay in town in order to help the investigation and prove his innocence."

_How cunning!_ Kotake realized that his offer to let them remain in Keeptown was merely putting the sisters between a rock and a hard place. _If we don't stay, we're faithless cowards in the eyes of the Gerudo, but if we stay, we're within his reach to imprison us whenever he wants!_

_Well, no point in agonizing about it right now. First of all, we have to get out of the Keep before he changes his mind._

"Get going, you two," Garanth said as if he had read her thoughts. "Do what you think is right. As will I."

"You sure about that?" Koume asked.

"Yes. What better way to prove my good will?"

"He's right," Kotake said and grabbed her sister's hand, pulling her toward the door. "Now come on!"

Faced with the unlikely event of her sister and her king actually _agreeing_ on something, Koume had no choice but to submit and follow her sister out of the throne room. Tracing back their steps, Kotake led the way out of the Keep into the town. The sun was about to set as they left the building, and the throngs of Hylians who had watched them enter the Keep had thankfully dispersed. The sisters entered an unlit backstreet and slipped into a dark gap between two houses. Kotake breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against one of the walls, while Koume was still trying to process what exactly had just happened.

"The king is an idiot," Kotake snorted, years of disdain confirmed in her mind once again.

"Maybe," her sister replied after composing herself. "But how do we get him out of there?"


	12. Two Kinds of Treason

**Chapter 12: Two Kinds of Treason**

After greeting Princess Zelda in her throne room, having obeyed everything protocol had to say about visits of foreign dignitaries, Queen Narala invited her into her private chambers, in order to talk more freely and less bound by the shackles of formality; a common practice at her father's court too, as she remembered from her own visits. Zelda was quick to agree, obviously uncomfortable by the score of Zora warriors who had been lined up at both sides of the throne room to pay their respects.

As the two women left the room through a green coral door they were joined by the Sheikah warrior Sharu who had already anticipated their exit route and awaited them. Narala was not too pleased at the woman's coming, indulging her presence only as a gesture of good will, but she was not about to go back on her word now.

"Greetings, princess," the Sheikah said, bowing deeply. "I was sent here to protect you during your visit."

"I know your face," Zelda said. "Your name is Sharu, is it not?"

"You honour me by remembering my name."

"I've seen you before, guarding my father when he left the Keep. But why are you here now? Surely – I mean..." Her voice trailed off.

'_Surely the Zora guards can guarantee my safety', is that what you wanted to say?_ Narala thought. _But then she'd have to answer 'no', which would be insulting in my presence. It is good to see that you watch your words._

"She is here on special request from the Sheikah leadership," Narala told the princess before Sharu could answer. "They are concerned about a possible assassination plot against you."

Zelda opened her mouth in shock, whereas Sharu frowned slightly; she might have tried to keep this knowledge hidden from the princess.

_She'll have to deal with that. Allowing her to even be here is generous enough; I certainly will not lie about her purpose._

"Let's get going, shall we?" Narala asked.

"Yes... of course," Zelda said, still processing the idea that somebody would want to assassinate her. Narala explained what little she knew about the plot to Zelda as they walked to her private quarters, while the Sheikah bodyguard followed silently behind them.

"Be at ease, princess. So far, nothing has been proven, and our own investigations have turned up no results."

"This is the first thing I heard about an attempt on my life," Zelda replied. "I'd think my father would tell me about this!"

"He was concerned that fear would overshadow your visit here," Sharu whispered from behind them.

"I'm not a little girl who – I'm sorry, Queen Narala," Zelda told her, "I shouldn't be furious about this in your presence. I will talk to Sharu about this later – and to my father, once I get home."

The three women reached Narala's room, and the two guards posted at the queen's door at all times saluted her. She opened the door and bid Zelda enter before her. Sharu seemed to be of a mind to follow her, but Narala stopped her with a gesture.

"You will wait outside, next to my own guards." She considered lowering her voice, but decided against it. "Or do you think I am the one who will try to assassinate her?"

"Of course not!" came the hasty reply. "I merely wanted to make a quick inspection."

"That will not be necessary," Narala decided. "This room is the safest place in all of Zora's Domain."

"As you say," Sharu answered and took position next to one of the Zora guard, who flinched slightly then she grazed him. Narala entered the room, closed the door behind her, and the two women sat down.

"I hope your royal father is well?" she asked in order to initiate a conversation.

"Oh yes, he's fine," Zelda replied. "It's during hard times like these when his strength shows. The plague took a lot from our people, and thus from him."

"I understand that your mother was among the victims as well. My condolences."

"Thank you."

Narala wanted to ask about Prince Darion's condition, too, but that question might very well lead to the topic of succession, which was always a very delicate matter. Instead, she decided to steer the conversation into another direction.

"Everybody here was stupefied when the plague suddenly vanished. Do your physicians have any idea about the reasons for that?"

Zelda coughed and looked to the ground.

_As I suspected. She knows something. And she's very bad at hiding it._

"This incident fits into a pattern," Narala continued. "This is not the first time the kingdom of Hyrule has been miraculously saved from catastrophe. A very small number of similar incidents, noticable due to their implausibility, have occurred in the past. But those were merely implausible – droughts must end one day, and superior armies can still lose. But an epidemic of this magnitude simply vanishing... those beyond salvation being cured and walking again... people call it an act of the gods, but I wonder if something more mundane is behind it. Some sort of power under the control of the Hylians, that can only be used at times of great need."

Zelda looked impressed and nodded.

"They say you are very wise, Queen Narala. It looks like they're right."

"It was the court chronicler who brought this to my attention," Narala smiled thinly, "but thanks for the compliment anyway."

"Actually, your questions are related to an important matter I wanted to talk to you about," Zelda said. "But I didn't know how to begin. It's kind of a delicate topic."

"Do not worry. There's only the two of us here, and I'm not prone to submit to my emotions."

"Very well." Zelda clenched and unclenched her fists, as if trying to bolster her courage. "First of all, you must know that what I'm about to tell you is Hyrule's most closely guarded secret. The people at court who know about it number less than six, and I am probably committing treason by telling you this."

Narala raised her eyebrows, not so much in surprise as a calculated gesture.

"Are you sure you want to continue?"

"Yes, I am. You... and others... deserve to know. But I ask you for confidentiality."

"I cannot promise that without knowing what you'll tell me."

"I'll still tell you, because I trust you."

"I am not necessarily deserving of your trust," Narala felt compelled to point out.

_I very much hope that she won't change her mind and complain later._

"I understand that," Zelda said, but continued anyway. "For three generations, the King of Hyrule has had access to a power beyond any other safe the Goddesses themselves. It manifests itself as three golden triangles, and it is called 'the Triforce'."

"You mean the symbol on the Hylian crest?" Narala asked and pointed at Zelda's dress, on which the three triangles where a recurring motif. "You mean to say that it is an actual physical object?"

"It is," Zelda confirmed. "And it is heavily guarded by Hylian forces, as I am sure you can imagine."

"Naturally."

This 'Triforce' presented an enormous threat to her kingdom and her people, Narala instantly realized. Power to be used freely could also be abused freely.

_I must find out more about it!._

"Has the Triforce been used more than those three times?" she asked. "And if not, why not?"

"I'm don't think it has been," Zelda replied. "My father doesn't share the details with me – I wasn't even supposed to know about it for a long time – but he always speaks about the responsibility of using great power. Which is why he only uses it in catastrophic situations, I think."

"Yes," Narala nodded, "that seems in character with the Artaxis I know."

_But why is Zelda telling me all this? Assuming she believes it to be the best course of action..._

_Of course. It is obvious._

"You're not concerned that King Artaxis might use the Triforce for evil," Narala stated. "But you're not so sure about his successor."

"Darion would never use it for evil!" Zelda burst out. "But he's not nearly as reluctant about it as my father. If he starts wielding this great power casually... I fear that he may lose himself in it over time."

"Over time?" Narala held back a very undiplomatic sneer. "You'd be surprised how fast good intentions can lead to calamity."

Narala found Zelda's revelations extremely interesting, as well as supremely alarming. She had never met Prince Darion, nor did she know much about his character, but that was not even her most important concern. Maybe the next King of Hyrule would abuse the Triforce, or the one after him, or the one after that one... Narala knew her history and had no illusions about the inherent goodness and nobility of royalty, although the current rulers of the races in Hyrule might be of a slightly better breed.

"I appreciate your candour in regards to your brother," she said, and meant it. "But our concerns should go farther than that. Think of the long term. As far as I am concerned, the rest of Hyrule merely got lucky three times in a row with your father and his predecessors."

"I admit I didn't think that far," Zelda said. "But that doesn't matter either way, because my plan would protect the Triforce from any abuse, be it from Darion or his successors."

"And what would that plan be?"

"The Triforce is hidden behind a magical gate that was discovered by a Hylian about a hundred years ago. That gate should be locked, and the keys given to the rulers of each race. That way, it could only be opened when they all agreed on it."

"That sounds like an equitable solution. But it could also spark wars for the possession of said keys."

"I know that! But it's still better than one man ruling the world with the Triforce, isn't it?"

Narala considered Zelda's plan. It certainly seemed sound, and she did not have a better alternative right now. There was just one major obstacle.

"How do you plan to convince your father of this enterprise?" she asked. "After all, he is the one who'd have to give up the Triforce." _Unless you reveal its location to us so we can secure it by force,_ she added in her mind. _But then again, only the Hylians and the Sheikah have any magic knowledge to seal that gate with, so we need their willing cooperation._

_It would be so much easier if Zelda was first in line to the throne._

Narala forced herself to abandon that train of thought. The welfare of her people was her highest priority, but assassinating the crown prince of a foreign nation was out of the question.

_And to think that it is his sister who may be in the sights of an assassin... fate certainly is whimsical._

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Zelda said. "I don't think I could convince my father alone – he'd tell me to put more trust in him and my brother... although he had an argument with Darion when I left, but I'm sure they've already put it behind them. At any rate, I know that he has a great deal of respect for the rulers of the other races – he's even begun trying to establish diplomatic relations with the Gerudo recently! So if you and King Grangus and perhaps even King Garanth come to him and request that he share control over the Triforce with you, I don't think he could refuse."

Narala nodded. Artaxis had always gone out of his way to keep good relations with the other races of Hyrule, perhaps in part to counteract the racism that still persisted in parts of the Hylian population. Of course he could still reject their plan – Narala was nowhere near as optimistic about it as Zelda – but if he did, he would be giving the other races justification for a grand alliance against the Hylians, allowing them to take the Triforce for themselves.

"Your plan is worth pursuing, princess," she said, "but we should act fast. To put it bluntly, we may be pressed for time."

Zelda lowered her gaze, perhaps hurt by her words.

"You mean to say that we must convince father before he dies," she whispered.

"I'm afraid so. I don't know much about your brother, but it sounds as though he has his own plans for the Triforce, and might be unwilling to part from it."

"Of course you're right," Zelda said. "I don't like to think about it, but my father won't live forever. But he was already old when I was born, so I never really accepted that." She sighed. "But I suppose everybody must die one day."

Narala did not feel comfortable thinking about her own mortality, at least not until her own daughter was of age and able to succeed her: Dying before that time would be a dereliction of her duty. She steered the conversation back on topic.

"I'll draw up a letter informing King Grangus of what you've told me, and our plan. No, better yet, I'll see him in person; this is too important to leave in the hands of a messenger. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I recommend that you stay here, or we'd have to drag your bodyguard along."

"Whose idea was it to send her here, anyway?" Zelda said, and she sounded annoyed for the first time since Narala had met her. "Nobody mentioned anything about this before I left. Couldn't she simply have come with me?"

"She said she wanted to familiarize herself with the locality," Narala offered.

"I guess that makes sense, but I still-"

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Come in," Narala called, and a guardsman entered.

"My apologies, Queen Narala, but you wished to be informed when the delegate from the Gorons arrived. He's being shown to the guest quarters just now."

"Very good. I thought they might have forgotten because of their dragon problem." She looked at Zelda. "Is there anything else you have to tell me right now? If not, I suggest we part for the night, while I see the Goron. There is a document that we need to sign before I leave."

_Of course I could just as well sign it with King Grangus himself once I meet him tomorrow evening. But since the delegate went to the effort of coming all the way here, I should probably do as planned and sign it here._

"I understand," Zelda said. "I've said everything I've come here to say – in regards to the Triforce, I mean." She hesitated. "Although I guess that means farewell for a while, since you'll be leaving early."

"Indeed. But I will instruct my people to lend you their aid and answer all of your questions in regards to your... what did you call it?"

"Cultural studies."

"Ah yes. You'll find the Zora a very hospitable people, although they may be slow to open up to outsiders." Narala addressed the guardsman. "Please lead the Goron into the throne room and tell majordomo Erliss to prepare the signing of the treaty. Oh yes, and also tell him to prepare an honour guard. I will be travelling tomorrow." The soldier nodded and left.

"If you're not tired yet, you could take a walk outside. The waterfall under the full moon is a beautiful sight." _At least it was when I last was idle enough to enjoy it. Which must have been years ago._

"I think I'll do that," Zelda said and nodded eagerly. "I really don't want to go to sleep yet."

"But do me the favour and stay within eyeshot of the guards," Narala said with a bluntness that surprised herself. "I don't want you to be assassinated while I'm gone." Since her guards only ever patrolled in groups of two or more, there was little danger of the hypothetical traitor among them to strike.

"All right. Although I now have a shadow to watch over me."

"Indeed," Narala nodded. "They say there are no finer bodyguards than the Sheikah. Of course they don't say that in the presence of my own guards, whoever 'they' are."

Zelda laughed. "I'm looking forward to talk to you after you come back. You'll have to tell me everything Grangus said."

"I will. Trust me, I have an excellent memory."

The two women left the room, each departing into another direction of the corridor, Zelda followed closely by Sharu. As she approached the throne room in order to meet the Goron emissary, Narala reviewed the information Zelda had given her. Depending on their next moves and how King Artaxis reacted to them, peace in Hyrule would either be preserved or destroyed.

* * *

The tunnels of Zora's Domain were not all that different from the ones in Goron City, Kokron found, except for the humidity in the air, which would probably give him rheumatism if he stayed long enough. He tried to remember which one of the many unmarked doors in the guest wing's corridor led to the room he had been assigned to, but they all looked the same in the near-darkness.

_The Zora are terribly stingy with torches! I can barely see a thing. They're probably afraid of burning their sensitive skin._

When he had arrived just before dusk after travelling the hole day, the Zora had assigned Kokron a room, but before he could make himself comfortable, he had been asked to come to the throne room to sign the treaty on the same evening. Queen Narala had indeed turned up after a mere ten minutes, cordially welcoming him to Zora's Domain and asking him about the health of King Grangus. She had then told him that she would visit Goron City on the next day, which Kokron had found somewhat irritating; after all, it had made his journey downriver largely redundant. Then again, now that he was here he actually thought that the trip had not been such a bad idea after all: There _were_ hot springs, and the Zora women, while thin and fragile-looking, had a certain exotic allure.

Consequently, Kokron had gratefully declined the queen's offer to return to Death Mountain with her escort tomorrow and planned to spend at least a full day here. She had also told him that the princess of Hyrule was currently lodging here, and he wanted to pay her a friendly visit as well.

After signing the treaty that renewed the alliance between the Zora and Gorons, the queen had excused herself quickly, seemingly preoccupied with more important things, and since the day's walk from Death Mountain had left Kokron tired and sore, he had retired to his assigned room. Or at least he was trying to, but the poor lighting made it difficult.

_Was it this room? Or the one next to it? Oh well, I'll just try this one._

Kokron opened the door just in time to witness a murder. At the far end of the room, a Zora guardsman who was facing a motionless Hylian woman lying on a bed of coral was just now stabbed in the back with what looked like his own spear, held in one hand by a black-clad female figure who used her other hand to cover his mouth, muffling his death scream. Kokron was completely dumbfounded for a second, but even if he had not been, he would not have been able to save the Zora's life, because the distance between himself and the killer was too great.

The murderess noticed the opened door and stared at Kokron with calculating red eyes. He stared back, spending a split second thinking about what to do. That was more than enough time to come to a decision, and he curled himself up and rolled blindly toward the woman's direction, hoping he would hit her. He did, but the length of the room had not been enough to pick up the speed necessary to kill or incapacitate her in the collision. Still, after uncurling and quickly looking around, Kokron found that the murderess had been knocked into a corner of the room.

Unfortunately, she had not let go of the spear and was already getting to her feet again. Kokron threw a short glance at the young Hylian woman on the bed; there were no visible wounds, but she had to be either dead or unconscious, or else the noise would have woken her.

"I don't know why you've come here," the red-eyed woman said coolly, forcing Kokron to focus on her, "but you won't leave this room alive."

"Ha, I don't think so!" Did that foolish woman even know who she was talking to? He was Kokron the dragonslayer!

She approached him, holding the bloodied spear firmly with both hands.

"You think I can't kill an unarmed Goron, who is all out of space for his rolling tricks?"

"I've killed some much bigger critters than you," Kokron said – a truthful boast, he told himself.

"Oh really? Didn't your father ever tell you that size doesn't matter?"

The woman lunged and jabbed at Kokron, but he had been expecting that and quickly turned around on the spot. Instead of piercing the comparably soft skin of his waist, the spear struck his back which, like all Goron's, was hard as rock. He staggered slightly from the force of the impact, but kept his balance.

"Your little toothpick won't hurt me!" he taunted her without turning around, eliciting an amused laugh.

"Do you plan to fight me like this? I don't see any eyes on your back."

Instead of an answer Kokron launched himself backwards, well aware that missing his opponent would allow her to stab him from the front, but he took that risk. He hit her, sending her crashing into the wall behind them with a pained groan. He quickly turned around and threw a punch at the woman, but she let herself slide down the wall, causing him to miss her and hit the rock instead.

_Argh! That hurt!_

Kokron withdrew his hand in pain and kicked at the woman's head before she could stab him in the groin – how often did he have to hit her before she would let go of that spear? She had to roll away from him to evade his kick, which saved him from receiving a potentially fatal blow, and swiftly got back on her feet. She changed her strategy: Instead of jabbing at him, she tried to circle around him, nimbly moving around the room.

_Is she stupid? Didn't she notice she can't hurt me from behind?_

Kokron suddenly realized that this was not her intention; rather than trying to attack him from behind, she was trying to reach the bed and the young woman lying there.

_She's trying to finish her off! Which is good, because that means she's not dead yet._

"Give it up," he said. "You won't get past me. I won't allow you to kill her."

"So they gave you some brain along with all the muscle? Yes, I'm going to kill her, either before or after I kill you. It doesn't matter. I was going to frame the guard who was stupid enough to turn his back on me by faking his suicide, but a co-conspirator from the Gorons will only add to the confusion."

"I'll show you how much muscle I've got!" Kokron growled. "Excuse me."

His last two words were directed at the unconscious woman on the bed, ignoring the fact that she could not hear him. He turned around and toppled the bed as gently as he could. The unconscious woman fell to the ground with a muted thud, hopefully uninjured, and Kokron grabbed the bed by one of its posts and lifted it above his head. He made several steps backwards, wildly swinging the bed around his back in the hope of hitting or at least grazing the killer, who could not have much room to evade him in the long, but narrow guest room.

Kokron missed the woman, who was bound to try and dodge his blind swipes, but the sound of metal clanking against rock as well as her curse told him that he had managed to hit the spear and send it flying.

_Now let's see how good you're at wrestling, little lady!_

Kokron turned around and threw himself at the woman who was already trying to recover the spear, but he managed to grab her legs and pull her toward him. She tried to shake him off, but even though she was evidently strong for one of her kind, she proved no match for Kokron, who hauled her toward her with one hand and clasped her neck with the other.

"You've lost," Kokron stated flatly, but she was still fighting back, trying to gouge out his eyes with her fingers. He drew back his head and held her at the greatest possible distance.

"You're strong for a Hylian, but you've lost," he repeated.

"Hylian?" the woman growled. "I'm a Sheikah! Don't you dare lump me together with these degenerates!"

_A Sheikah? At least that explains why she's so tough. But aren't they supposed to be fiercely loyal to the Hylians? Then why is she trying to kill that one?_ Another thought crossed Kokron's mind – Princess Zelda was supposed to be a guest here as well, and she was the right age. Could that be her?

_How many young Hylian women at the right age are likely to be here? Of course it's her! But why would a Sheikah try to kill her own princess?_

"The plot thickens..." Kokron said to himself and stared at the Sheikah killer who had stopped struggling and sent evil glares at him, indubitably trying to come up with a way to turn the situation around. The Zora guardsman patrolling the corridor who stopped at the opened door and took a curious glance into the room gave her an opportunity.

"Help me!" she shouted. "He's trying to kill the princess!"

Any Zora seeing his dead comrade on the floor, the room in disarray, the princess motionless in a corner and an angry Goron restraining an unarmed bodyguard would surely have come to the same conclusion as this guard, who charged the perceived killer with his spear while loudly shouting an alarm. At the same time, the Sheikah woman resumed struggling against Kokron, beating and scratching and tearing at his arms.

Gorons were not by nature a warlike people and, when threatened, instinctively curled up into a ball of rock, which might look like a good idea on the surface, but was almost always strategically unsound. Goron warriors relied on the beat of battle drums and their own warcries to inflate their courage and drown out this instinct, but Kokron considered this method crude and unreliable; he had taught himself in long years of training to overcome instinct with quick thinking. This worked fine as long as the enemy acted in a manner he could predict, but when something took him by surprise, Kokron usually froze until he had processed the new development. That rarely ever took long – Goron brains were the largest of any of the races in Hyrule, a fact few non-Gorons were aware of – but in battle, one or two seconds of hesitation could be fatal.

It took the Zora guard perhaps two seconds to lower his spear, run into the room and get into stabbing range. When Kokron finally comprehended what was going on, the spear's tip was already dangerously close, far too close for him to turn around and not get stabbed in the side. Dodging was out of the question as well – he was too bulky for that. Which left him with only one possible recourse: He threw the Sheikah woman at his attacker.

The charging Zora could not possibly have stopped now, even if his reaction had been quick enough. He impaled the woman on his spear and kept running, but the Sheikah's body had absorbed most of the thrust's force, and when the spear hit Kokron's waist, it barely drew blood. Resolutely, Kokron grabbed the tip of the spear which protruded out of the Sheikah's back and broke it off.

Shocked at what he had done, or rather at what Kokron had made him do, the Zora guard let go off the broken spear and gasped for breath, no longer a threat. The Sheikah, too, was still breathing, although anyone could have told that she was not long for this world. Not inclined to feel pity for the woman who surely would have killed him, Zelda and the second guard, Kokron grabbed her again and pulled her face in front of his.

"No dying yet!" he snarled. "Tell him that you were the one who killed his comrade!"

"Nothing... matters... anymore." Her voice was faint but audible, and she did not even react to Kokron's words. Maybe she could not even hear them anymore.

"I have... failed. I couldn't kill... Zelda..."

"Did you hear that?" Kokron shouted excitedly. "She said she couldn't kill Zelda! That proves I'm innocent! Speak up, man! Did you hear?"

The flabbergasted Zora guard nodded. "Yes... I heard. But what is going on here?"

"Thanks," Kokron told the Sheikah and dropped her. "Now you can die."

"I... have failed. Forgive me... Lord... "

Her lips continued to move, but no words came out. Only now Kokron realized the meaning of 'I have failed': That she had not targeted Zelda for her own reasons, but at the behest of another.

"Wait, I changed my mind," he said. "Don't die. Who is this Lord? Why does he want to kill Zelda?"

But it was no good. The assassin's eyes turned up white, she stopped breathing and went limp.

"What have I done? I didn't mean to-" the Zora guard stammered, but Kokron cut him off.

"Hey, don't worry about this. I killed her. You were just happening along with your spear."

"You're just saying this to make me feel better," the guard whined.

"I'm saying it because it's true. And because I want credit for the kill. Making you feel better isn't part of the equation. Now go and tell the queen what happened. And get a doctor or something, because I don't know what that woman did to Zelda."

Surprisingly enough, the guard proved receptive to Kokron's instructions, perhaps because he was used to taking orders, and left, hopefully doing as he had been told. Kokron went over to where Princess Zelda was lying and inspected her. She had suffered no visible harm from being thrown out of the bed, but she was still unconscious, and did not react to any of his attempts to wake her. He picked up a blanket that had fallen off the bed when he had toppled it and tucked her in. That might or might not be helpful, but it seemed like the right thing to do, considering how fragile the princess looked.

Only now that everything within his power had been taken care of could Kokron admit that he was exhausted and sat down on the ground next to Zelda. He had been walking almost the whole day, far too scared of falling into Zora River to try rolling, and had topped it off with a fight to the death against an assassin; he was allowed to be tired. While checking himself for injuries, he noticed that some of the assassin's blood had been spattered on his waist when the Zora had impaled her. He reached for a corner of the blanket he had used to cover Zelda and wiped it off.

_The Sheikah may be called shadows, but their blood is still red._

Even for a warrior like Kokron, that was a sobering thought.


	13. Village of the Dead

**Chapter 13: Village of the Dead**

The setting sun coloured the sky red as blood, and the fires that were consuming the village painted mad shadows on the buildings that were still standing. The villagers had abandoned their homes hours ago and fled across the open plains, and only a last remnant of the living had stayed behind to buy them time for their escape.

They had entrenched themselves in the village's small church, barricading the two entrances against the onslaught of the dead. The church's walls had been constructed entirely from stone and were thus immune to the fire, and the Stalfos had not been smart enough to throw torches on the wooden roof of the church, or a rain of blazing beams would have come crashing down on the defenders. The situation was grim, all things considered, but Link refused to give up hope: The messengers must have arrived in Keeptown by now, and relief was sure to be on the way. They only had to hold out for a while longer.

His band of recruits, forced into a struggle to the death long before their time, was performing admirably, and had been holding the entrances against repeated waves of Stalfos trying to break through. The last wave had attacked half an hour ago, and the deceptive calm between waves had returned, leaving the defenders time to regain some of their depleted strength.

Two more soldiers had been killed during the fighting in the village, before Link had ordered them to retreat into the church after his previous strategy to stop the Stalfos in the narrow backstreets had proven a failure, as they had been circled and almost surrounded by the enemy. Link was amazed, and a little bit upset, by how little their deaths had moved him compared to the two soldiers killed by the Moblin King.

_That's probably because there was not time to mourn them back then. But now there's a break in the fighting, so why am I not sad? They died because of me._

_No, that's nonsense. They died because of the Stalfos. I was trying my best. It's not my fault. But it's interesting, how fast you get used to this... I guess a commander has to, if he wants to lead._

_Wait, I'm not even a commander! This is all just a ridiculous chain of coincidences!_

_But we were in the right place at the right time, there's no denying that. And we probably saved the lives of many villagers._

Link had to distract himself from these pointless, repetitive thoughts and ordered the soldiers to light all candles and torches they could find in anticipation of the falling night; it would not do to be surprised by the darkness while fighting another wave of attackers with the fires outside as their only light source. After that, he climbed up the stairs leading to the small belfry where he had posted a watch: A young man whose sword arm had received a deep cut and who was unable to fight, but still wanted to help somehow. He was peering out of the window to the west, toward Keeptown, on the lookout for the reinforcements that simply had to arrive.

"Any sign of them?" Link asked from the top of the stairs.

"No, Sir!" the young soldier answered and turned around. "I hope they arrive before night falls."

"Don't worry, they can't miss the village even in the dark. Not since our skeletal friends turned it into a balefire."

"Actually, there's a problem with that. I mean this house."

Link joined the lookout at the window and looked at the building in question: A two-story-house built right next to the church, with only a narrow alley in between. Its thatched roof, like most of the other roofs in the village, was burning brightly, and every time the wind blew, a shower of sparks was blown toward the church.

Link realized the obivous danger. If a strong enough gust of wind were to blow sparks onto the wooden church roof, it might ignite and force them to abandon their sanctuary.

"I see," he said. "If even the smallest fire breaks out on our roof, tell me at once."  
"Yes, Sir."

Satisfied that, even if it came to that, they would receive ample warning, Link let his eyes wander over the burning village.

"Where is that Stalfos I asked you to keep track of?"

"You mean the one with the golden helmet? He vanished between two houses near the edge of the village. Probably looking for more of his... uh... friends?"

After the villagers had fled across Hyrule Field and Link's unit had taken refuge in the church, many of the Stalfos had lost the drive to attack them. Link had learned quite a bit about monsters from listening to many a story told by the old men of his village, and knew that this behaviour was typical for Stalfos: Without any living beings in their immediate vicinity or a powerful wizard to command them, they simply stopped where they were, often collapsing into a heap of bones, and could re-assemble centuries later if an unfortunate soul happened to pass by them. It seemed like the Moblin King had given them no orders beyond torching the village and driving out or killing its people, and so many of them slumped down in the streets, lifeless as skeletons were supposed to be.

But one of them was different: He wandered through the streets of the village and wordlessly communicated with the lifeless Stalfos, rallying them and sending them in waves against the church. He wore a golden helmet and and bore a huge broadsword that was definitely not standard issue of the Hylian army. It was clear to Link that he was the source of all their troubles, and that if they were to take him out, the other Stalfos would cease their attacks.

Unfortunately for the young soldiers, the Stalfos leader kept himself at a safe distance from the church, making any attempt at a sortie a huge risk that Link was unwilling to take. They had no bows or other ranged weapons, so there was no way to attack him without exposing themselves.

"There he is!" the lookout said and pointed to the edge of the village. Link followed his finger and saw the Stalfos leader, who in life must have been one of the generals of the Hylian army that had been buried in the crypt. He had managed to round up yet another two scores of Stalfos – Link could not keep an exact count, but he estimated that they had at least killed a hundred of them by now – who were marching toward the church for another attack.

_Why does he contine making life difficult for us?_ he wondered. _Perhaps he has special orders from the Moblin?_

"I have to go," Link said curtly and hurried down the stairs. "If you see help arriving, tell me at once!"

Not waiting for an answer, he returned into the church's main hall and rallied his men.

"Another wave is advancing, thirty or forty Stalfos! Prepare yourselves!"

The soldiers – in his mind, he did not refer to them as recruits anymore – grabbed their weapons and assembled at the main and rear entrance, having been divided into two groups by Link during the first wave. Most of them were not even afraid anymore; their fear had given way to a kind of tired determination along the lines of 'we survived for this long, we'll manage to make it through somehow'. They took positions behind the makeshift barricades made from benches they had wedged together and awaited the enemy.

After less than five minutes, the Stalfos arrived at the central square. Maybe a third of their number split off the main group and went around the church in order to attack the rear entrance. The others closed their ranks and slowly advanced toward the main gate. As before, their leader was nowhere to be seen.

"Open a small gap in the barricade and let one or two of them come in, then close it again, just as before!" Link bellowed, although by now his men must know the drill. "I know you can do this! And don't take any stupid risks! Nobody goes outside!"

The first three Stalfos reached the barricade, and the soldiers did as ordered. Although the skeletal warriors were skilled fighters, they seemed to lack good sense, and instead of trying to rush through the gap past the defenders, they simply stood their ground where they were, blocking the way for their own comrades. But they had been trained and experienced soldiers in life, while Link's men were utterly green, so they still had a tough time defeating them even when attacking from three sides.

Link helped as best as he could, taking turns between the main and rear exit, striking most of the killing blows himself. He had never fought Stalfos before – the monsters in the swamp near his village were of a lesser calibre – and was often surprised by how well they fought, sometimes even feinting an attack to lure a soldier into overreaching. Two of Link's men were wounded this way and retreated into the church as per Link's orders. A third soldier was accidentally hit by one of his comrades' sword while trying to sweep a dead Stalfos' scattered bones into the church away from the fighting, because many soldiers had tripped over them during the first wave, and the lesson to remove them had been learned quickly.

After ten minutes of fighting, all the attackers had been defeated and silence settled over the church again, only interrupted by the pained grunts from the injured soldiers whose wounds had to be cleaned before being bandaged with stripes of cloth torn out of priestly robes: The Stalfos' swords were dirty and rusty from the decades they had been lying below the earth, and an infection would be certain to finish the work the Stalfos had begun.

"Good work, everybody," Link said. "We're going to make it. Just hang in there."

The soldiers answered with a weak, but hopeful cheer. However, the positive atmosphere was ruined by the lookout who darted down the belfry's stairs shouting "Fire! The roof's caught fire from sparks!"

Link looked up to the ceiling, but there were no visible traces of the fire yet, which gave them time to come up with a plan for evacuation.

"Stay calm, everyone, we still have time," he shouted, then dressed the soldier from the belfry: "What about reinforcements?"

"I've seen nothing, Sir. But that doesn't mean anything. It's just too dark."

"Our friend with the golden helmet?"

"I lost him when the roof caught fire," he admitted. "Last time I saw him, he was walking toward the edge of the village."

"To the crypt?"

"No, the opposite direction."

"Hm. Forget about him for now, you're not going back up there. We're evacuating."

"But where to?"

"Out of the village. It's been hours since the civilians fled, so we can make our exit as well. The village is lost, anyway. Staying holed up in here would have been safer, but the fire leaves us no choice."

Link quickly checked the ceiling, where several dark spots were forming. Still time, but he wanted to get out before the roof came crashing down on them.

"All right, listen up! Move all the benches from the front to the back door, so they can't attack us from behind. We'll leave through the front door in closed ranks, two columns. Keep looking around you and run down the main street onto the open field. Everybody hold their shield to the side, except the ones in front. Half of you hold torches, the other half their swords." Link took a deep breath from shouting his commands, then looked at the three wounded soldiers sitting on the floor nearby. "Can you run?"

The three young men nodded in confirmation. "What shall we do about the dead?" one soldier asked.

"We can't afford to be slowed down, and the fire won't hurt them anymore. We're leaving them behind."

Murmurs of protest arose, but in the end, the soldiers accepted his decision, knowing better than to stage a revolt at this critical moment.

_That's one thing I've never understood,_ Link thought, zoning out. _Why is it so important that the bodies of the dead are recovered? I mean, they are... well... dead. The wounded try so hard not to slow the others down – why does everyone assume that the dead wouldn't want the same thing?_

Link snapped out of his thoughts, angry at himself: This was really not a good time for reflecting on things like that. The soldiers had assumed formation as per his orders, ready to move out at his command. Link took position at the rear, which would probably be the most dangerous place, made sure that his helmet was properly fastened and shouted out last orders.

"If Stalfos attack you from the sides, don't fight them, just use your shields to hold them off. It they try to block our way, run them over; skeleton's don't weigh much. Keep your pace uniform and watch your feet. If you trip, you'll slow us all down, so don't trip. We stop once we're a mile away from the village. Nobody stops before that, for no reason. On my mark... go!"

They rushed out of the church's entrance, quickly synchronizing their pace, flying past the burning houses and down the street. Several passive Stalfos lying on the roadside began to stir as the column passed them by, but they were far too slow to rise and posed no threat.

Link noticed that several of their torches had been extinguished by the draft, something he had failed to take into account, but not a good enough reason to slow down. Even if all torches were to go out, as long as they were in the village, the burning buildings would light their way, and once they were outside... well, Hyrule field was largely flat and empty, so there was little chance of them running into anything.

After a minute of stampeding down the street and no serious attempts made by the Stalfos to stop them, the soldiers reached the edge of the village and entered Hyrule Field. All of the torches had indeed gone out, but Link did not countermand his orders to keep running, and so nobody stopped. At least not until a familiar voice in the darkness loudly shouted "Halt!" before they were even close to having run for a mile.

About half of the soldiers stopped, while the others kept running, which of course led to most of them colliding and falling to the grassy ground in general confusion.

"Arnu," the voice asked from several yards behind them, "can you make it so that they can see the light, too?"

"Anybody can see this light if they're close enough to me," a female voice replied with a somewhat lecturing tone, "but I can extend the radius, if that's what you mean."

"Do that." The first voice again.

A dome of glaring light suddenly appeared around Link's soldiers and blinded them, forcing them to close their eyes.

"Turn it down a bit."

"Oh be still, it's not that easy." The light's intensity decreased. "Better now?"

"Much, thank you."

Link finally recognized the owner of the first voice a moment before he opened his eyes and saw him, astride on a white horse at the top of a company of knights.

"General Thallius! It's good to see you, Sir!"

"Link, well met," Thallius said from atop his horse. "Excuse me for causing, uh, confusion among your soldiers, but you would have rushed straight past us without even noticing we were there."

"Where does that light come from? And why couldn't we see it?"

"A wizard did it," a grey-haired woman with red eyes sitting on a black horse right next to Thallius's replied. "That would be me."

"We'll save the introductions for later," Thallius said. "Link, what's the situation?"

While Link related the events of the past hours, his men got back to their feet and only now fully grasped that the arrival of dozens of armoured knights meant that they were safe. Their tension gave way to elation, and they started cheering for Link loud enough to make him ask nicely for them to be silent while he finished his report. But even as he told Thallius about their stand in the church, he felt his cheeks redden slightly and hoped that it was not visible in the magical light.

"...so I'd estimate that at least half their numbers are still... uh... alive, as it were."

"I understand." Thallius said. "Well done, Link. You and your men have earned a break. Light your torches and stay put. You can watch us clean up this sorry mess from a safe distance."

"Sir, wait!" Link said before the knights could move out. "I want to come with you!"

It was a foolish thing to ask, he knew, but he felt that he had to see this affair finished with his own eyes.

"Thanks, but I think we can handle it ourselves," Thallius disappointed Link.

"You'll have to go into the crypt to check if some Stalfos are still hiding there! I can show you the way!" Link offered, hoping to be indispensable this way.

"I've visited that crypt before, so I'll know my way around." Thallius sighed. "Or is there no stopping you short of a direct order?"

"No, Sir. I can handle myself, and I want to be there."

"What if you die? Who'll tell us what happened?"

"Three of my men were with me in the crypt. They've seen everything I've seen. They can tell you. And, if I may be so bold, I don't plan on dying."

"I don't know about this," the general said. "If you-"

"Would you kindly make up your mind, Thallius, or do you want to stand around here all night?" the female wizard interrupted the general. "You were the one who told me there was no time to lose."

"That was before we found the villagers safe and sound wandering on Hyrule Field," the Knight Commander replied, but did not press the point against the resolute woman. "All right Link, you win. Get up here."

Surprised by his own success, Link climbed the general's horse and held on to his armoured shoulders. "You stay here and rest," he told his men. "But keep an eye out for wandering Stalfos! Don't let your guard down!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Go get them!"

"Go break some bones!"

"Sir?" Thallius asked as the knights covered the remaining distance to the village, the magical light travelling with them and illuminating their road. "I don't recall giving you a field commission."

"You could give me one now," Link suggested innocently.

"Don't get greedy! I thought I told you pups it would take more than one heroic deed to get recognition!"

"I was joking."

"Of course. And you'd have said the same thing if I had promoted you to lieutenant?"

"There we are, Thallius," the red-eyed woman said, saving Link from having to answer that question. "Tell your knights to round up the Stalfos in town; we're going into the crypt and getting to the bottom of this."

"Yes, I was about to give the order."

"No, you were joking around with your young friend. Please concentrate on the matter at hand and don't dawdle."

"Yes, please admonish me in the presence of my men. It'll do wonders for morale."

Several of the knights laughed, probably used to their general being dressed down like that. Their morale, at least, seemed unaffected.

_That wizard doesn't mince words,_ Link thought, hoping that he would not find himself in her sights anytime soon. _Or wait, shouldn't that be 'witch'? But that sounds kind of evil._

"All right, men, let's begin." Thallius spoke loud enough that all of the knights could hear him. "Fan out in groups of five and scour the village! Kill every Stalfos you see, and make sure they're not getting up again. Oh, and one more thing: Collect all the bones after you kill them. These men were once brave soldiers of Hyrule – they must be properly buried again."

After acknowledging their orders, the knights dismounted – manoeuvring their horses through the narrow streets surrounded by burning buildings would have been a bad idea – and entered the village, their battle cry on their lips: "For Hyrule!"

"Are you sure we shouldn't take some of them with us?" Link asked while the remaining three went toward the small structure housing the entrance to the crypt.

"You were in there, weren't you?" Thallius asked. "It's pretty cramped, so taking more than a few men inside would be pointless. And besides, there's no reason for any Stalfos to still be in there. We're mainly going so Arnu here can find out who is responsible for this whole sad affair."

"Don't hold your breath," the woman named Arnu said, "it's not like wizards leave an individual smell behind or anything. And besides, he or she wasn't even here; they used a spellsphere."

"You mean the blue orb that the Moblin King dropped?" Link asked, surprised that Arnu knew all about these details. Apparently, she had drawn the right conclusions from the news brought by the two messengers.

"Yes. A sufficiently skillful wizard can encase a magic spell into a sphere and hand it to a layman, who can then use it to duplicate the spell's effect. And if it is broken, an even more powerful version of the spell is unleashed. Of course it only works with some types of magic, and it's rarely done, anyway. Most powerful wizards have the good sense not to borrow their power to somebody who doesn't know anything about it!"

"You've got to make one of these spheres for me and put that handy magic light in there," Thallius said to Arnu. They had reached the small building, removed the makeshift barricade and entered through the broken door, Thallius going first, Link last.

"A great idea," Arnu said "And if you dropped it, everbody close to it would be blinded for life. Still want one?"

"Fine, I'll pass."

"Besides, I couldn't make you one if I wanted to. You can't use glass for the sphere, you need a special type of crystal that's very rare and ridiculously expensive."

"Then how did the Moblin King get his hands on one?" Link asked.

"How should I know?" Arnu replied without looking at him. "Speaking of the devil, shouldn't you have sent some of your men to look for him, Thallius? He might still be around."

"After six hours or longer? And during the night?" Thallius, too, spoke without turning around, keeping his eyes on the tunnel ahead. "No way. I'd like to see Unthok's head on a pike as much as everybody, but there's no way he's still even in the general area. He's too cunning for that."

"Who is he, anyway?" Link asked, determined to pry some more information from these two as long as he could.

"Unthok?" Thallius asked as they entered the very room where Link had faced him several hours ago. "He's a nasty piece of work. Smart, brutal, and has a knack for showing up where you don't expect him. He dropped the orb in here, you say?"

"Yes."

"Anything, Arnu?"

"The traces are strong," the Sheikah woman said. "Very strong. This orb was not made by some run-of-the-mill wizard."

While they talked, Link walked around the room, able to see much more now thanks to Arnu's magical light than the last time. There was not a single skeleton left in there; they had all been raised as Stalfos. A second tunnel on the opposite side of the entrance led out of the room, sloping slightly upwards.

_This must lead to the ruined house. This is the way the Stalfos took._

Something crunched beneath his feet, and Link bent down. There were small crystal fragments strewn all over the rough earthen floor. He picked up a few of them and walked over to Arnu.

"Will these help you with anything?"

She shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not. Feel free to keep them; fragments this small aren't even valuable, because you can't use them for anything."

"My, how generous of you," Thallius laughed. "Don't mind Arnu, Link, she's this way to everybody."

"No, it's all right," Link said quickly. "There's nothing to mind, really."

"There you go, Arnu, you already intimidated him," Thallius laughed.

"Be silent and listen to me. There aren't many wizards I know who could have crafted a spellsphere this strong. Only two, really. Mudora and Malark."

"Who are they?" Link asked.

"A nut and a creep, respectively," Thallius answered. "But shouldn't Mudora be dead by now? He was even older than Malark, and that one is already ancient."

"You know that powerful wizards can extend their lifespan virtually at will, so I wouldn't count on it."

"Then it's possible he joined with the Moblins for whatever crazy reason of his," Thallius mused, pacing up and down the crypt. "But what would he have to gain by doing this?"

"Beats me. I remember him as a good person who wouldn't do something like this, but many things can happen in twenty years."

"Hm. So what about Malark?"

"Malark?" Arnu hesitated, then sighed. "Well, I can't stand him, so I'm biased."

"You spent a decade studying with him," Thallius pointed out.

"That's exactly why I can't stand him."

"What, did he touch you inappropriately?"

"I don't think he cares about things like that. And watch your tongue," she added, glancing at Link, "there are young people here."

"Please don't mind me," Link reassured them, "this is all very fascinating. Just pretend I'm not here."

"As you wish," Arnu replied and turned her back on him.

_I didn't mean it literally!_

"Would Malark have anything to gain from this?" Thallius asked.

"No, not to my knowledge," Arnu responded with reservations. "Except that since I came here I'm not currently keeping an eye on him, which is already – wait..." She frowned deeply. "The king took him... against my advice, I assure you... and he showed him... maybe he's trying to influence the king to..."

"Could you maybe repeat that with less gaps?" Thallius asked.

"I'm sorry, it's classified. I can't tell you."

"Classified?" Thallius put his gauntlets against his sides and scowled. "I'm one of the three generals! Are you saying I can't be trusted?"

"Standing orders of the king," Arnu merely replied.

"Fine, cut me out of the loop. Just don't expect me to be of any use if I don't have all the information!"

"Oh, that's quite all right. It's not like you've ever been of any use."

"Are you two always like this?" Link asked. "Because it really isn't helping right now."

Arnu faced him and rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Oh my! Shamed into dignified behaviour by a boy!"

"I'm sixteen. I'm a man."

"And I'm sixty-five. You're a boy."

"I think his point went way past you," Thallius interjected.

Arnu took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest.

"Yes, I'm sorry. But I really can't tell you about it. Those really are the king's orders. Technically, I can't even tell you about the fact that I can't tell you about it, but that's spilled milk." She opened her eyes again, looking very determined. "I have to get back to the Keep right now, to check on Malark."

"So you _do_ suspect him?"

"Maybe. I have... my own reasons to doubt him, but I can't address them here. But with both me and Zelda absent, the queen dead and the prince mad at his father, there's really no one left to prevent Malark from influencing the king. He may be trying to get his hands on... something he really shouldn't get his hands on."

"Now that you mention it," Thallius said, "he got really reluctant when I told him to come here with me. So maybe he arranged for this incident to lure us away from the Keep?" He furrowed his brow. "On the other hand, he served Hyrule for longer than I've been alive. He may not be a pleasant fellow, but maybe we're jumping to conclusions?"

"I don't think Malark has any feelings we can hurt," Arnu dismissed his worries. "What was your name again, boy?" She suddenly looked at Link.

"Link," he replied.

"Hm, weird name, but never mind that. You're coming with us, Link"

"Me? Why?"

"We'll try to bluff some information out of Malark, and use you as a tool," Arnu said, her tone annoyed, as if she was explaining something obvious. "You'll tell him that Unthok mentioned his name, and we'll see how he reacts."

"Can't you tell him without me?" Link asked, more than a little uncomfortable with the idea.

"No, he would demand to be confronted with his accuser."

"I don't like that idea," Link said truthfully. "This Malark doesn't sound like a person on whose bad side I want to get."

"I am also not a person on whose bad side you want to get," Arnu pointed out. "And I'm right here in front of you."

_Just great,I'm being used as a pawn in a palace intrigue! This will certainly end well!_

_On the other hand, having two high-ranking court members in my debt might be worth something in the future. And this Malark isn't going to bite my head off._

"All right," Link said. "I'm coming with you."

"Oh, please," Arnu snorted, "don't talk as if you ever had a choice. Come on, let's go. There's nothing left to do here."

"For you, perhaps," Thallius said. "I still have to give the knights some instructions before we leave."

"Fine, but hurry."

The three left the crypt and split up afterwards: Arnu went ahead to the horses, taking the magical light with her, while Link followed Thallius. The fires were no longer as big as before, since many buildings had simply burnt out, but it was still enough to illuminate the scene. The knights were hard at at work outside of the crypt, carrying the bones of slain Stalfos and piling them up, while throwing their weapons and shields on a second heap.

"Weren't you going to bury them again?" Link asked.

"Yes, of course," Thallius replied.

"But their bones are all mixed up."

"That doesn't matter. As long as a person's bones are buried beneath the earth, their soul will rise up to heaven. That's what the priests say, but they never mentioned anything about the bones being properly arranged."

"That's... pragmatic. But what about people whose bones are destroyed?" Link thought of the two dead soldiers whose remains surely had been burned to ashes along with the church. "It doesn't seem very fair that they don't get to go to heaven."

"Yes, I've thought about that too, when I was your age. It doesn't really make much sense, does it?" Thallius called out to one of his knights, and the man walked over to them.

"I'll be leaving early," the general informed his subordinate. "Continue the clean-up as I told you, then stay until tomorrow and make a second sweep during daylight, to make sure you didn't miss any Stalfos."

"What about the fire?"

"Nothing you can do about it. It won't find any fuel on the grassland, and the village is lost anyway. Just let it burn itself out."

"Yes, Sir."

Remembering something, Link spoke up.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said to Thallius' subordinate.

"Uh... certainly," the knight answered.

"Among the Stalfos you killed, was there one who wore a golden helmet?"

The knight shook his head.

"Don't think so. Somebody would have told the others. Bragged about killing him, I mean. And there is no golden helmet on that pile, either." He pointed at the heap of shields and swords and helmets next to the mound of bones. "But feel free to look for yourself."

"What are you talking about, Link?" Thallius asked. "A gold-plated helmet... only the general in command of the army is allowed to wear one."

"There was one Stalfos here who had a golden helmet," Link insisted.

"Hm... you might be right," Thallius admitted. "I just remembered that Lord Belemor, the previous General of the army, died in the battle that took place here thirty years ago." He grimaced. "I'm sure glad I hadn't joined the army yet at that time, or I would probably be lying on that bone heap now." Thallius shrugged. "Anyway, what was with that Stalfos?"

"He was different from the others," Link replied. "Even when many of them became passive, he tried to rally them and directed their attacks against our position."

Link remembered the words of the lookout about the Stalfos walking toward the village's edge. "Actually, now I think he escaped from the village before you arrived."

"That would be bad news," Thallius said. "Lord Belemor risen from the dead and wandering over Hyrule field? I can only hope you're wrong. Keep looking for that golden helmet," he told the knight, "and report to me later whether you found it or not."

The knight saluted and went back to his gruesome work, while Link and Thallius re-joined Arnu who was waiting impatiently with the horses.

"It's about time. Now come on, let's ride."

"I don't want one of my men to have to walk back on foot," Thallius said, "so you're with me again, Link."

"That's actually a good thing, because... I can't ride." Link was a little bit embarrassed to admit this, but there had only been a couple of horses in his village, and he had never been allowed to ride one.

"No shame in admitting it, Link. I'd never been on a horse's back before I was knighted. I picked it up in no time, and so can you."

"Great, you are both prodigies," Arnu sneered. "Can we go?"

The three mounted up and let the horses carry them over the vast plains of Hyrule Field toward Keeptown, the way before them illuminated by Arnu's magical light. The long day had been extremely demanding on Link both mentally and physically, and so neither Thallius nor Arnu were surprised when he fell asleep on horseback, his arms clasped around the general's waist.


	14. Unbalanced Heart

**Chapter 14: Unbalanced Heart**

When Darion finally left the pub in one of the seedier quarters of Keeptown, night had fallen and the streets would have been pitch dark if not for the light of the moon hanging in the sky above town, perfectly circular. It was only thanks to that light that the prince managed to avoid several painful collisions with buildings as he swayed through the empty streets toward the Keep. He was very determined to make it there, and very determined to speak to his father and set things right between them once and for all. His father was a strict, but reasonable man. He would listen to him.

Darion did not even remember clearly why he had even left the Keep in the first place. Everything was hazy, except for his determination to end the stupid quarrel between father and son.

_Why did we even argue in the first place? Something about three forces? Uh. That doesn't make sense. _

_It doesn't matter. We'll resolve this, even if I have to wake him. _

The Keep's towers and battlement loomed high over its namesake town, so Darion could easily find his way there even in his clouded state of mind. The street he was taking ended at the corner of the Keep, below one of its four towers, and he walked along the outer wall toward the main gate, occasionally leaning against the massive stone wall when he was in danger of losing his balance. About halfway between the tower and the main gate, he spotted two dark, slim figures pressed against the wall, one of them helping the other in an attempt to climb it.

"Hey," Darion called out, his voice scratchy and not nearly as loud and imposing as he would have liked it, "what are you doing there?" He might not be on top of his game right now, but he knew that people trying to sneak into the Keep was very likely a bad thing.

Upon hearing him, the two figures stopped what they were trying to do and looked at each other for a moment, then rushed toward Darion, who was in no shape to fend them off. One of them circled behind him and restrained his arms behind his back, while the other covered his mouth with one hand, the other pointing a heavy sabre at his throat.

"Don't try to run or shout, or you're dead!" the figure hissed. Darion saw that she was a woman whose body and face head covered by a white cloak.

_That's stupid,_ he thought. _If you're trying to sneak in somewhere during the night, you dress in black, not white._

"Do you understand?" she whispered angrily.

Darion nodded. Even through the haze, he realized that he was in a very dangerous situation, and not in a condition to fight, and so he would do as he was told.

"Good. We'll let go now. Don't do anything stupid!"

The woman let go off his mouth while still pointing her weapon at his throat, and the one behind him released the hold on his arms and appeared before him, wearing the same white cloak as the other woman. She was the same height, too, and had drawn a similar dagger, and their tanned face beneath the hoods were identical as well.

"I'm having double vision," Darion groaned. "I should have listened to the barkeep and not drunk that much."

"He looks pretty strong," one of the woman said to the other, "but he isn't armed and seems kind of drowsy. See his glassy eyes?"

"Maybe he's ill?"

"Hey," Darion babbled, "don't talk about me like I'm not here! That's disrespectful." He hiccuped.

"Oh, now I get it," one woman realized. "He's drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I only drank a little."

"A perfect example for the decadence of Hylians," she continued. "Wasting valuable fruit in order to make a drink that will only make you sick and stupid."

The two women started an argument, something about slitting somebody's throat, and disobeying the king's orders. Darion couldn't quite follow it, because nausea overcame him, and he had to throw up against the Keep's wall.

_I'm just not used to drinking. Why did I even... ah yes, because of father._

_Father. I have to see him. Set things right._

"I'm going home now," he announced and tried to move around the women, but they easily grabbed him again.

"Just let him go," one of them whispered to the other. "He won't remember us thirty seconds from now. We'll try on the other side. Come on."

"You are insufferably soft-hearted. Fine, it's on your head." She sighed. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because otherwise you'd be bored?"

"Perhaps so."

The two women scurried along the wall into the direction from which Darion had come and quickly vanished behind the tower at the Keep's corner.

_What was all this about?_ Darion wondered, but only for a short while. Then he remembered that he really had to see his father, and made his way to the main gate. The guards who were keeping watch hastily opened the small side door once they recognized him. Noticing his condition, they offered to escort him to his room, but he declined.

One of the guards ran off to inform somebody of the prince's arrival while his comrades asked Darion to stay with them, but the prince did not care about their fussing and went on his way. He staggered through the empty, torch-lit corridors of the Keep toward the throne room, wondering whether his father was still up.

_Probably not. I'll have to wake Malark to open his room. Or just knock real loud._

He arrived in front of the throne room, which was guarded by the usual two soldiers, and asked: "Is my father in there?"

The two men looked at the prince in shock, then at each other, making Darion wonder whether he had said something wrong again.

"Y-yes, your highness, he's in there, but..." The guard looked as if he had eaten something bad. "Hasn't anybody told you?"

"Told me what?" Darion hiccuped again.

"You tell him," the guard whispered to his comrade.

"No way! Look at him, he's drunk! In his condition, who knows how he'll react-"

"Why does everybody say that I'm drunk? It was just a couple of... a couple of..." Darion's voice trailed off, and he was in danger of losing balance again.

"Come, your highness," one of the guards approached him, "I'll help you to your room. Tomorrow-"

"Not tomorrow!" Darion shouted, getting highly irritated. Why were they trying to stop a son from seeing his father? "I order you to let me through! I'm the prince!"

"Fine, I'll say it," one guard resigned himself, and looked Darion in the eyes. "My prince, please listen to me. Your father died yesterday evening."

"You mean he was killed," the other guard interjected.

"Idiot! That's not proven, and he doesn't need to know-"

"Oh come on, of course it was the desert rat!"

"Dead?" Darion asked confusedly. "Who's dead?" He thought he had heard his father being mentioned, but that could not possibly be right. It must have been be the haziness. "Who's dead?" he repeated.

"Your father, the king. I am sorry. It was said that he died peacefully."

"Yes, _murdered_ peacefully," the other guard scoffed, but was silenced by a quick glare from his comrade.

"Father is dead..."

At another time, in another place, those words might have formed a meaningful sentence. But not here, not now that Darion had to talk to him so desperately.

"I'm going to see him now," he said, and before the guardsmen could react, he had pushed aside their crossed lances and threw open the double doors of the throne room. The motionless body of his father was lying in state on a waist-high pedestal wearing his finest red robes, his hands folded over his chest and a hint of a smile on his face.

The haze around Darion's mind was instantly dispelled, as if a fierce gale had blown it away. His father was dead, right before his eyes, and there was no way he could deny it any longer. He realized how much the old man had still meant for him, even though their relationship had somewhat deteriorated even before the incident in the Sacred Realm. But nothing changed the fact that he had still been his father.

"Why now?" he rasped. "Why at this time? I just wanted to apologize and make peace with you. How could you leave me now?"

A lump formed in his throat, and Darion fought against tears. No crying! Not while two soldiers were standing behind him, surely giving him pitiful looks.

"Did you hate me in the end?" he whispered. "Did you die hating your own son?"

Somebody entered the throne room behind him, and he heard the doors being closed.

"Leave me alone," Darion said without turning around.

"My prince," the dry, scratchy voice belonging to Malark said, "you have my deepest condolences. I had no way to contact you, or I would have informed you myself."

Darion did not want to talk to Malark right now, did not want to hear the reassuring, yet empty phrases he was bound to drone.

"I said leave me alone."

"I assure you," Malark continued, disregarding Darion's wish, "that the full truth about your father's death will be brought to light. If it is proven to have been murder, the culprit will pay with his life."

_Murder! I remember now, that guard talked about it!_

Darion turned around and looked at the old wizard who was standing in front of the closed door with his his gaze downcast.

"Look at me, Malark. Who murdered him?"

"We suspect the king of the Gerudo tribe who came here yesterday evening. He entered your father's chambers and returned nary a minute later, claiming that the king was already dead. We're currently holding him in the Keep's dungeon. I was going to interrogate him tomorrow-"

"I'll lead the interrogation myself, right now!" Darion exclaimed. "I'm going to make this snake confess!"

"Please listen to me!" Malark said, blocking his way. "Your father was found with no visible wounds. He was old, and it may just have been a coincidence. I promised the Gerudo King he would be treated fairly. Don't turn me into a liar by torturing him."

Darion wanted to push the wizard out of the way, but thought better of it. He was right, of course: Mistreating a prisoner out of frustration and rage would have been a terrible thing to do. And his father would not have wanted it. He nodded.

"You're right. He'll be given the benefit of the doubt."

"On the other hand, if he is guilty, this murder might only be part of a greater plot against the royal family," Malark mused. "We have reason to believe that a Zora is trying to assassinate your sister, and-"

"What? Why wasn't I told about this?" Darion did not even want to think about the possibility of Zelda being killed, for he had parted in anger with her as well. "Why did you let her visit them if you knew about it?"

"We sent one of our finest Sheikah Elites to stand watch over her. It seemed a manageable risk."

"I can't believe you're saying this!"

"A risk we can no longer take, naturally, not with your father dead," Malark was quick to assure. "I sent a group of soldiers to escort her back to the Keep immediately right after I learned of the king's passing. And I have increased security around young Kyrus as well. Even if our worst nightmares come true and your sister falls victim to an assassin, the throne of Hyrule shall not remain empty for long."

"What are you talking about?" Darion was perplexed. "I will be king! I am the oldest child!"

Malark coughed and dodged Darion's gaze. The old advisor seemed abashed, embarrassed even.

_That would be a first for him. But what did he mean by that?_

"Malark! Look at me and speak up!"

"My prince, telling you this pains me more than if I had told you of your father's passing. But... I have failed you. I was not able to assuage the king's fury the day before."

"And that means?"

"Your father disinherited you shortly after you left yesterday," the wizard whispered. "You will never be king."

If seeing his father dead before him had been a knife stabbed in Darion's heart, this news was as though that knife had been twisted inside the wound. It was not just that he had lost his claims to the throne – the worst part was that his father had decided not to forgive his rash words. He _had_ died hating him.

"I have nothing to say in my defence," Malark professed.

"Yes," Darion whispered weakly. "There's nothing to say."

"I will show you the document. Please come with me to the archives. The registrar is surely asleep, but I have the keys to all rooms in the Keep."

"What's the point? I believe you." The last thing Darion wanted to see was written proof of his father's contempt for him.

"I must insist," Malark said. "It will be terrible for you to read, but as much as I appreciate your trust, you can't just go on my word alone."

"Fine, as you wish," Darion said, resigned to his fate. "Lead the way."

The prince followed Malark through the door and down the corridor, trying to hold his head high and returning the concerned glances of the guards; he would not be much of a man otherwise. Even through the powerful veil of depression he could see that his life was far from over. Maybe Zelda would allow him to stay in the Keep as an advisor of sorts, although he might no have much to offer to her in terms of advice.

The archives were located only a short walk from the throne room, and Malark unlocked the door of the small room full of shelves that housed countless scrolls, dating back to the establishment of the current dynasty by King Achmenos I, two centuries ago. Malark scanned the shelves for a short time until he found the scroll in question, uncurled it and presented it to Darion, who reluctantly read it.

_...forever barred from the throne of Hyrule..._

_...disrespectful and insolent words ..._

So it had been all about that one fateful remark in the Sacred Realm. In retrospect, it almost seemed like a petty overreaction.

_Maybe I should just start hating father for this. At least then I wouldn't have to grieve anymore._

"Notice the seal of your family, as well as your father's signature," Malark said while looking at the prince sympathetically. "It's a legally binding document, I'm afraid to say."

Darion nodded and wanted to hand the scroll back to Malark when he noticed something odd. The royal family's seal, depicting a bird and the no-longer-legendary Triforce, was indeed there, but the space where his father's signature should be was empty. Which meant...

"I think there has been a mistake, Malark," Darion said and turned the scroll around so the wizard could see it. "I don't see any signature." He smiled at the old man. "This document is null and void."

Malark frowned and took a closer look at the parchment.

"This can't be. It's impossible!"

The wizard's red eyes jumped all over the parchment, his expression almost pleading, as though he expected the signature to appear out of nowhere if he only looked long enough. He mumbled something inaudible, ground his teeth, and suddenly crumpled the parchment in his fist.

"I am an idiot!" he shouted. "Why didn't I check? Why didn't I-" He looked up in shock, meeting Darion's confused gaze, and regained his composure as suddenly as he had lost it.

"Oh well. This, too, can be remedied."

"Are you all right?" Darion asked. Maybe the old man was not as emotionless as everybody always said, and the death of his long-time master had shaken even him. "Why are you an idiot? And what can be remedied?"

"I am an idiot," the wizard answered calmly, "because I caused you unnecessary heartache by claiming that your father had disinherited you, when he hadn't! He must have had a change of heart at the last moment. A testimony to his... strong character." He took a deep breath and uncurled the document again. "And this awkward situation can be remedied just like that." He ripped the scroll neatly in two and let the halves fall to the floor. "Null and void, just as you said. Forgive my outburst, but your father's death has not left my nerves unstrained."

"Yes, I thought as much. But I wonder about this... "

_Could it really be that he forgave me?_

"You said my father had a change of heart. But he must have written this while he was very angry! Perhaps he simply forgot to sign it in his agitation. Why else would he seal it and place it in the archives?"

"Perhaps he forgot, perhaps not," Malark shrugged. "It makes no difference."

"It makes a difference to me! If only I could talk to him one more time..."

"Please stop right there, Prince Darion," Malark said, concern plain in his voice. "Thoughts like these only nourish impossible hopes. The truth is that your father is dead, and there is no power in this world that can bring him back."

And then the answer came to Darion, unbidden, but not unwelcome. He should have thought of it much earlier, but grief had clouded his mind as thoroughly as the wine before it.

"Yes, there is," he said. "There is one such power, and we both know where to find it."

"Triforce," the wizard whispered in awe.

"Yes! Surely, the power of the gods can achieve anything!"

"Are you sure this is wise?" Malark asked. "No matter the cause of his death, no one can claim that your father died before his time. I know that the strain of old age tore heavily at him – even though his mind remained clear until the end. Consider also that his great love passed away less than a week ago. Maybe he died of a broken heart. Maybe he wouldn't want to return."

"But everybody wants to live!"

Malark sighed.

"Your highness, I would never reveal to you the things your father told me in confidence. But consider: If he had harboured thoughts about his death, do you think he would have upset his youthful son with them, or rather confided in his long-time advisor, who knows only too well what it is like to grow old?"

"But I admonished my father for not bringing back mother with the Triforce! If I don't revive him, I would be a hypocrite!"

"Would you yank him back to life just to prove something to yourself?" Malark asked. "If so, I entreat you to reconsider."

"But I could make him young and healthy! And bring back mother!"

"If your father had wanted eternal youth for himself and your mother, he could have wished for it himself, at any point over the last fourty years. But he did not. What does that tell you?"

Darion hated to admit it, but Malark had a point. If his father had admonished him in life for merely mentioning bringing back the dead, what would he tell his son if he actually brought _him_ back?

"I think you should use the Triforce to aid the living, and let the dead rest in peace," Malark drove home his point.

"All right, then." Darion had a sudden idea. "How about a compromise? The priests say that the soul only ascends to heaven when the body has been buried, isn't it?"

"Prince Darion," Malark replied with barely hidden disgust, "you wouldn't want me to tell you what I think about the priests."

Darion cocked his head. "So that is why I've never seen you in church! Regardless, since my father's body hasn't been buried yet, his soul isn't in heaven yet. That means, if I just were to talk to him for a couple of minutes... I wouldn't be disturbing his rest, would I?"

Malark cleared his throat. "If one were to accept the... questionable assumptions of the priests, then yes, that would be right."

"It's settled, then! I won't bring him back to life, but I will talk to his spirit, to set things right between us, and to say goodbye. To the Sacred Realm!"

Happy that he had found a solution that would let him talk to his father one last time while respecting his wishes, Darion left the archives and ran down the corridor, the stables his destination, Malark following close behind him, vainly begging him to slow down. In his excitement, Darion did not heed him, expecting him to catch up eventually. When he reached the stables and found Malark awaiting him there, he winced at the sight of the old man who had somehow managed to overtake him.

"What... how did you...?

"Consider it a demonstration," Malark said without smugness. "I can bring us to the entrance of the Sacred Realm much faster than any horse."

"Really? Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried, but you ran way," the wizard pointed out. "But first things first: Shouldn't you be thinking about your coronation?"

Darion shook his head emphatically. "That can wait. In fact, I don't think I could truly become king without taking care of this matter first."

"As you wish." Malark nodded. "At any rate, I can teleport us to the North Garrison in an instant, if you want me to."

"Tele-port?"

Malark demonstrated it by appearing at Darion's right, then his left, then back where he had been standing, each disappearance accompanied by a short hand gesture. Darion was impressed, to say the least.

"I guess you're a wizard after all."

"Was there ever any doubt about that?"

"No," Darion was quick to assure the old man, "it's just that I've never seen you actually do any magic."

"There's little need for that in my position as advisor, is there?"

"I guess that makes sense. All right, what do I have to do?"

"Nothing at all. All I need is your consent, and I'll take care of the rest."

Darion nodded and closed his eyes for some reason: He had always been slightly distrustful of magic, but he was fine with everything that hastened his progress at this time. Only a second or two later did he feel the wind of the open field blowing in his face, and the temperature around him dropped noticeably.

_It's done already?_

Darion opened his eyes and found himself and Malark standing next to the barracks, the largest building of the North Garrison. Fires on top of the watchtowers illuminated the area, and even in the middle of the night, the chapel that housed the portal was guarded by four soldiers. Nobody had taken notice of their arrival yet, since they had appeared in the shadows of the barracks.

"This is amazing!" Darion praised Malark's spell. Wizards rarely talked about their capabilities, let alone demonstrated them, and this proof of Malark's power reminded him that this was not merely false modesty. "But why didn't you teleport us back then when we came here with my father last week?"

"The spell is not entirely without risks, managable though they are." Malark shrugged. "Your father did not want to take those risks."

"Yes, I can imagine he didn't," Darion said, reminded of his father's overbearing need for caution. Then he immediately reprimanded himself in his mind for speaking ill of the dead.

Their conversation had alerted the guards to the new arrivals, and they approached them with their weapons drawn and demanded their names. Darion gladly gave them, and Malark's presence was enough to answer the question of 'how did you get in here unnoticed?'

_His talents really should be utilized more. But with the Triforce, it's a moot point._

The guards welcomed the prince who was well-liked by the soldiers, since he often joined them during exercises to maintain his skills. When he told them that the king was dead, most of the men merely nodded and accepted the news. Artaxis had been more than sixty years old, and his death, as regrettable as it was, seemed perfectly acceptable for most of the men.

_Perhaps I should try to copy their attitude... no, not yet! Not before I talked to him!_

The soldiers offered a prayer for the departed king's soul, which was awkward for Darion, since he was going to talk to that soul in a few minutes. Malark did not comment on the prayer, but the words 'bah, humbug' were written all over his face. After the prayer, the soldiers wanted to pay the new king their respects, but Darion was quick to point out that he had not been crowned yet.

"We're here to go into the Sacred Realm," he told them. He wondered how much the soldiers knew about the Triforce, and whether or not he should give them a reason as to why they were going, but they did not seem to need one.

"But I'm not sure it will work, majesty," one of them told Darion. "Some kind of spell blocks the gate, you see. King Artaxis once told us that 'only the rightful King of Hyrule and his chosen companions may pass through this gate'. Now you certainly are the rightful king, but if you haven't been crowned yet, it may not work. Just a word of caution."

"I doubt that the ward is that pedantic," Malark said. "And even if it is... it must have been set up by Arnu, so I could probably dismantle it in less than ten minutes."

"Ouch, that was harsh," Darion muttered. He knew there was a long-standing antipathy between Malark and Arnu, although both of them were professional enough not to show it openly.

"Not as harsh as you may think," Malark said. "Defensive magic is by its very nature limited. It has to be refreshed regularly, and the farther the caster is away, the weaker it gets."

"Good to know," Darion said. "The four of you are coming with us," he told the soldiers. "No, wait, get some more men. Just in case. "

"I really don't think that's necessary," Malark began, but Darion cut him off.

"I think it is."

In truth, as useful as Malark had already have proven himself, Darion was wary of letting him get too close to the Triforce. He still remembered the greedy manner in which the wizard had looked at it the last time, and he would rather be safe than sorry.

On the other hand, Malark had been a loyal servant of Hyrule in one form or another for almost three times as many years as Darion was old, so he would not deny him the opportunity to take another look at the Triforce.

_Maybe he just likes the way it sparkles. I could have an imitation crafted for him, made from pure gold._

_Now that I think of it, it would probably be a good idea to remove the Triforce and secretly hide it away in the Keep. Who knows, there may be other portals leading to it from other places, and they just haven't been discovered yet. It would be very unpleasant to come here one day and find the Triforce gone. Did nobody think of that before?_

Their escort was ready, and Darion led them into the small chapel that housed the portal. To his relief, the invisible wards around the shimmering portal accepted him as 'rightful king', and the group crossed over to the other side, into the strange, dark chamber with the blue floor. The Triforce was still there, hovering silently in their resting place, awaiting the commands of their rightful master. Darion had the soldiers position themselves around the Triforce and peered warily at Malark, whose eyes were already fixed on the golden triangles.

"Say, Malark," Darion said, "would you be able to teleport directly into this room from Hyrule, skipping the portal entirely?" He tried to keep his voice casual, so as not to betray the distrustful intent behind his question.

"I am certain that it would be impossible," the wizard replied without looking at his prince. "This room, and the entire realm around it, lies on a completely different plane of existence from our own, and seems to obey different laws." He flicked his hands several times in a row, but nothing happened. "I could study these laws, of course, but that would take time. Right here and now, I can use as much magic as you."

"Oh, really?" Darion said with some relief. "Remind me to mock you about that every time we come here."

"As your majesty commands."

Darion considered asking Malark whether he had ever had a sense of humour in his long life, and if so, where it had disappeared to, but decided not to taunt his loyal servant even more. Instead, he turned his attention to the Triforce that hovered in the middle of the dark chamber. It still looked exactly the same as the last time, slowly turning around its own axis, somehow emitting a bright golden light without blinding the people who looked directly at it.

_The power of the gods. Triforce. And it is rightfully mine!_

Out of the corners of his eyes, Darion saw a faint tremor going through Malark's body, and he quickly stepped forward to block the path to the Triforce.

"Nobody touches it except myself," he said loudly, speaking to no one in particular, but hoping that Malark would take the hint.

"Your highness," the wizard asked undeterred, "could I have a closer look at-"

"No."

_There it is again, that coveting gleam in his eyes. He really has no shame._

For a second, the old wizard looked about to make a break for the Triforce, throwing frustrated glances at the soldiers' drawn weapons.

Then again, it might also have been Darion's imagination.

"Then perhaps at a later time..." Malark whispered.

"Don't hold your breath," Darion said. "The Triforce belongs to the King of Hyrule." Feeling the need to temper his harsh words, he added: "But feel free to request something I should command it to do. Your long service for our family has been unrewarded for long enough."

"I will think about your offer," Malark said unhappily.

"Please do that," Darion said. "In the meantime, I'll do what I came here to do." He walked before the Triforce and took a deep breath, hoping that the soldiers would not be too shocked at the sight of his father's spirit.

"Hear me," he said solemnly. "A new age is upon us!" He raised his right hand and touched the Triforce, which stopped turning immediately. Its surface was smooth and slightly warm to the touch. Darion cleared his throat and spoke in his best commanding voice:

"Triforce! I am your master now! You will do as I say!"

He felt a little bit silly saying that, unsure whether the Triforce would even understand him – was it a living being or an inanimate object? Then, suddenly, an etheral, yet imposing voice echoed throughout the chamber.

"I am the Essence of the Triforce. He who would make a wish, be warned that your heart must contain the three virtues in equal parts, or you cannot command me."

"What is it talking about?" Darion asked Malark, but the wizard could only shrug. "What's that supposed to mean, virtues?" he asked the Triforce directly.

"Power, wisdom and courage," the voice said simply. Apparently, that was the entire explanation. Darion frowned. He had not expected the Triforce to come with strings attached, with conditions that had to be met.

_But it worked for father, so he must have had all these virtues. And if he had them, so do I!_

"I command you to let me talk to my father!" Darion said, ignoring the gasps of the soldiers around him. "His soul, or spirit, or whatever you call it. It needn't be for long."

His instructions where admittedly slightly imprecise, but Darion trusted that the Triforce would understand his meaning. If it was all-powerful, surely it was also all-knowing. After a second, the voice of the Essence answered:

"I have seen into your heart, and I have judged you, and I find you wanting. You do not have the courage to live with the ambiguity that always accompanies death. You do not have the wisdom to understand that all things must end, yet nothing is ever finished. You only seek to impose your will on the world through raw power. Your heart is not in balance."

_What is it trying to say? Is it refusing my command?_

"I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care!" Darion shouted, incensed by the Triforce's recalcitrance. "But I will see him one more time! I must!"

"Your heart is not in balance," the voice repeated relentlessly. "You believe in power most of all, and will therefore receive the Triforce of Power. The two remaining parts will be given to the ones chosen by destiny. Each of you will carry their Triforce piece as long as that person is alive, or until the three Triforce Bearers come together. Only then can the whole Triforce be reunited, and you may claim it as your own if you so choose, even with the lack of balance in your heart."

"What's the matter with you?" Darion yelled. "You don't get to talk back to me! You're a piece of metal! I own you!"

But the voice of the Essence had fallen silent. Darion's mind raced, trying to understand what had gone wrong.

_I am found wanting? Do you have to be some kind of saint to use this thing?_

The Triforce started to vibrate, as if trying to shake off Darion's hand, but he was determined not to let go, not until the damn thing had obeyed him. Then, the three small triangles that made up the Triforce began pulling away from the centre, and within seconds, they were all floating separately before Darion, who used both hands in a desperate attempt to get a hold of them all. But they slipped from his grasp and now began drifting upward, still away from each other.

_No! It wasn't supposed to be like this!_

The soldiers were now openly talking among each other. Even without the voice's damning appraisal of Darion's 'balance', it would have been obvious to anybody that something had gone very wrong. Malark made no sound, but was visibly mortified by the sight of the Triforce tearing itself apart.

Just as Darion feared that the pieces would float out of his arms' reach, they stopped moving. The triangle that had formed the top of the Triforce suddenly shot toward and somehow entered his chest without causing any sensation, surrounding his body with a golden glow for a second, and then there was no trace of it left. A moment later, the two remaining pieces accelerated as the first one had and sped off into separate directions. After flying a short distance, they vanished into thin air, as though they had left the chamber and the entirety of the Sacred Realm through a portal of their own.

"No! Stay here! You are my inheritance!" Darion begged weakly, but there was no helping it: The Triforce pieces were gone, and the omnipresent golden light with them. The chamber was still illuminated with blue light coming from the floor, but the golden radiance of the Triforce was gone.

Darion turned around and looked at his soldiers. "What's the meaning of this?" he asked, as if they somehow knew. "What did just happen?"

But the soldiers simply stared at him, some of them shaking their heads, most of them whispering among each other. 'Ill omen' and 'abandoned by the gods' were the only things Darion could make out, and he could scarcely blame them for thinking this way, after witnessing the prince somehow squander the gift from the gods.

Malark had knelt down on the floor at some point and was staring at the spot where the Triforce once had been. He seemed like a man on a sinking ship in the middle of an ocean who had just seen all lifeboats depart on their own and leave him behind. Short, muted giggles kept escaping his mouth, and he looked like he could break out into hysterical laughter at any moment.

_If he does, I might just as well join him. I have no idea what happened, except that I botched it completely. My father managed to use the Triforce just fine, but I... I have been found wanting._

Darion buried his face in his hands and waited for the earth to swallow him.

"Highness!" a soldier suddenly called out. "Your hand!"

Darion wanted to ignore his words, but since the earth refused to swallow him – it probably had found some fault with him, too – he might as well take a look. He was amazed to find three glowing golden triangles imprinted on the back of his right hand, one of them brighter than the others. Then he recalled one of the triangles entering his body, and suddenly, the words of the Essence of the Triforce made sense.

_One piece is now inside of me... the Triforce of Power... and it will remain within me as long as I am alive._

Once Darion remembered the words of the Essence of the Triforce, everything started to make sense: The other two pieces had left this realm, presumably for Hyrule, and had entered the bodies of those 'chosen by destiny'. If he were to meet with them, the Triforce would be re-united, and he would be able to claim it for himself, no matter how lacking he might be!

_All I have to do is find these two chosen ones, and have them brought before me! And if they, too, bear a mark on their hands, how difficult can it be to find them? I will reward them with great wealth if only they come to me and return that which is mine by right!_

Darion allowed himself a smile as hope returned to him, and raised a clenched fist. The soldiers saw it and seemed strangely reassured by his demeanour, even though he had not given them a reason to believe in him yet.

"Come on, all of you," Darion said. "We're going home."

The soldiers obeyed and followed their prince back through the portal, dragging the devastated Malark behind them.

"First of all, there will be no word of this to anybody!" Darion said once they were back in the chapel. "Is that clear?"

The soldiers loudly replied in the affirmative, and the hushed whispers and furtive glances ceased after this.

"Do not worry," Darion said, well aware of the need for a leader to demonstrate confidence. "I will yet usher Hyrule into a new age, using the gift of the gods, the power of gold. The Triforce."

Again Darion smiled, this time only to himself.

"I promise you, I shall have it back. It will be easier than all of you think."

_But there are bound to be those who are envious... those who would begrudge me this power. I must be prepared for that!_

"And if it won't be easy, then I will do whatever it takes to have it back. And may the Goddesses help any poor, blasted fool who would seek to bar my way."


	15. Chosen by Destiny

**Chapter 15: Chosen by Destiny**

Even by Zora standards, Queen Narala was considered conservative, in her personal worldview as well as her government style. She knew that rules and traditions existed for a reason; that reason usually being that they had been proven time and time again to work. She did not like to make exceptions, although life was not so gentle as to consider her likes or dislikes, and so she occasionally found herself in situations where it was necessary or prudent to deviate from the way things had always been done. However, the latest exception she had made had proven to be such a colossal misstep that her conservative views had been heavily reinforced for the foreseeable future.

_Admitting a member of foreign armed forces to roam free within my own domain? What was I thinking? _

_Nothing, most likely._

But there was nothing to be done about it now, and chastising herself would not help her clean up this mess. And what a mess it was: The princess of Hyrule had nearly been assassinated while under the queen's protection! Thankfully enough, she had survived, but she had not regained consciousness yet, presumably because she had been drugged in order to keep her docile.

_And I alone bear the blame for that._

Narala had admitted the would-be assassin enabled her, trusting a seal that could have been forged or stolen. One of her own Zora guards had fallen victim to the assassin, paying the ultimate price for his Queen's naivete. And the murderess herself had been killed by a well-meaning, but overly thorough guest, who now constituted a potential information leak, but had to be treated with deference, since the princess's life had only been saved thanks to his courage.

_What a mess!_

If Narala had believed in the existence of a higher power, she would have requested assistance right about now. But as things stood, it would fall to her to sort things out, and rightfully so, since they had only fallen so badly out of order due to her inadequacy.

"I'm sure this one will work."

The voice of the old doctor brought Narala from deep within her thoughts back into the real world. She was sitting on the corner of Zelda's bed, in the shadow of the hulking Goron visitor, both of them watching the doctor suspiciously while the aged Zora forced a herbal potion down the throat of the sleeping princess.

"You said that three times now," she remarked coldly. "Are you sure you're not making things worse?"

"The only thing worse than being unconscious is being dead," the old woman lectured her, "and since I haven't killed her yet, it follows that I'm not making her worse."

"Haven't killed her _yet_?" Narala shuddered, although she knew that the doctor was reliable – she was her own personal physician, after all. Still, she was definitely not in the mood for jokes. "If you're trying to encourage me, you're doing it wrong," she said coldly.

"Just a figure of speech. The first medicine I gave her would have been strong enough to wake any Zora, but the other races... they're just too frail and weak." She looked at the Goron standing in a corner of the room. "Excluding those present, naturally."

"I don't think I've ever been called frail and weak before," the envoy from King Grangus mumbled. "Especially not by an old woman a third of my weight."

"She meant no offence," Narala hurried to say, hoping that the Goron would not make a scene.

"I know," he answered. "No offence taken. It was just funny, that's all."

_Why is it that everybody seems to making jokes? I for one can't see the humour in this situation!_

"What was your name again, if you don't mind?" Narala asked, successfully keeping her voice free from displeasure.

"Hmpf, looks like I didn't make much of a lasting impression." The Goron scratched his large chin with a dissatisfied look on his face. "The name's Kokron."

"You certainly made an impression, Kokron" Narala assured him and tried not to glance at the dent the Goron had left in the wall while fighting the assassin. "But I have a lot of things on my mind right now."

"Yes, I can see that. Sorry."

"Now, are you sure you didn't hear her speak the name of her master? Not even in part?"

"No." Kokron shook his massive head. "She said 'forgive me, Lord...' and then croaked."

"At least we can deduce from this that her employer isn't a woman," Narala sighed "Though that's not much of a start. Normally, I'd suspect a younger sibling trying to rearrange the order of succession in their favour, but Prince Kyrus is not even two years old. And Zelda's older brother or father would have nothing to gain from murdering her."

"Of course it wasn't her brother or father!" Kokron said furiously. "They are her family!"

The Zora Queen narrowed her eyes. "You truly believe a man wouldn't kill his own family to further his position? Goron politics must be very... quaint."

"I don't know anything about politics," Kokron clarified and sounded almost proud of it. "I just can't believe it. Family is not supposed to do something like that to each other. And besides... the king and the crown prince can't 'further their position' by killing the princess. They both already rank higher than her!"

_A sound, if simple observation. Also, one I already made twenty seconds ago._

"That is true," Narala said diplomatically, "but there may be other reasons. An internal quarrel, perhaps."

Kokron looked doubtfully at her, then shook his head.

"You're probably right. I just can't put myself in the position of a man who would want his own blood dead, and didn't even have the guts to do it himself. Perhaps we Gorons really are too simple to understand something like that."

"If only the rest of the world were as simple," Narala sighed. In truth, the permanent power play and possible intrigues at her own court were already tiring her, and she had not been on the throne for that long. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary."

"Thanks, your highness," the Goron said, and probably meant it. "But either way, I can see I'm not of much use here, and I already told you everything that happened. My guest room is next door, so just wake me when you need me for something."

Narala rose from the corner of the bed that had somehow survived being misused as a weapon without significant damage and had been put in its intended use again. But before she could properly see the Goron who was still her royal guest to the door, the doctor who had been monitoring the unconscious princess cried out.

"She's stirring!"

Narala immediately knelt down next to the bed, and Kokron returned from the door, his intent to depart postponed, if not forgotten. The Hylian princess was indeed moving her arms and legs, and the doctor immediately took credit.

"Didn't I tell you this potion would work?"

"Don't boast yet," Narala reproached her, "not before Zelda opens her eyes."

"Just you watch, it's going to happen any second."

In spite of her rebuke, Narala hoped that the old woman was right, but she was not going to say that out loud. Wishful thinking was inappropriate for a queen, who had to stoically accept the good along with the bad. But when the princess actually opened her eyes half a minute later, Narala could not suppress a huge sigh of relief: The complications resulting from Zelda being murdered in Zora's Domain, even with a Sheikah culprit readily available, would have been most unpleasant. In the past, the races of Hyrule had gone to war over lesser incidents.

"Now you can boast," Narala told the old woman. "Princess Zelda, are you well?"

After the expected questions 'Where am I?' and 'What happened?,' where answered by Narala and Kokron, Zelda left the bed of her own accord and took a few shaky steps across the room. Narala wanted to hold one of her arms to make sure she would not fall, but remembered that most Hylians found the touch of a Zora's cold, slick skin unpleasant, and withdrew her hand without the princess noticing. Zelda looked down at the Sheikah woman's dead body that still lay in the same spot where Kokron had killed her.

"Why did she try to kill me?" Zelda asked incredulously. "She's a Sheikah... they're supposed to be more loyal to the royal family than most Hylians!"

"We don't know that yet," Narala replied, "but if it's any comfort to you, I believed the same thing when I granted her request. Perhaps we should do away with the idea that all members of a race necessarily share the same loyalties."

"Yes, you're right," Zelda said slowly. "Although that would mean a lot of rethinking." She walked back to the bed and sat down, clearly not confident that her legs would support her for very long.

_Those must be aftereffects of the drug used by the Sheikah assassin._

"One can never do enough thinking," Narala said. "If I had thought more before believing this woman's tale, all of this could have been avoided. I accept full responsibility for everything."

"Nonsense," Kokron interrupted her. "The responsibility lies with her master, not with you."

"Look," Narala said, allowing her impatience with this naive Goron to get the better of her, "I really appreciate you trying to defend me, but this is about politics, and you said yourself that–"

Bright golden light suddenly filled the guest room, and Narala gasped in surprise and covered her eyes. A strange, powerful presence was all around them and filled her heart with anxiety, since she had never felt anything like that before in all her life. Judging from the gasping and stuttering noises, the other people in the room reacted the same way.

_What is this? Another attempt on Zelda's life? Are assassins using this light as cover?_

But there were no sounds of people entering the room, nor of weapons being used. Besides, if the source of the light was restricted to this room, the guards in the corridor should be able to intercept any attackers.

A voice suddenly spoke in her head, which was one of the few things Narala truly dreaded: Her pre-predecessor on the throne had one day started to hear voices that talked exclusively to him, and had not remained king for long after admitting to it. Nonetheless, she could not deny that she was hearing a voice, so she might as well listen to what that voice had to say.

_"...has been split. You are one of the two people chosen by destiny. You will bear the Triforce of Wisdom for as long as you are alive, or until the three bearers are brought together."_

_Triforce? The thing Zelda talked about? What is the meaning of this?_

Narala dared not speak the words out loud, but she presumed that the voice that spoke in her head was also able to answer the thoughts _she_ spoke in _her_ head. But no answer came. Instead, the golden light vanished as soon as it had appeared, leaving the room as it had been before and the people inside confused.

"What was that?" Zelda asked.

"I have no idea," Kokron said, "but being chosen by destiny sure sounds swell."

"So all of you heard it, too?" Narala asked, but Zelda only looked at her quizically.

"Heard what?"

Clearing up the confusion took a while, but when everything was said and done, it turned out that only Narala and Kokron had heard the voice in their respective heads, naming them Triforce Bearers. At the same time, a golden mark in the shape of three triangles had appeared on one of their hands, visible proof that the two of them had not simply shared a hallucination of some kind. "That's the sign of the Triforce!" Zelda gasped when she first noticed it, but was at a loss to explain it.

Everybody in the room reacted differently: Narala was confused and actually slightly offended that something so overtly supernatural would intrude on her orderly worldview, Kokron was happy and boastful about being chosen by destiny, and the doctor declared the two of them crazy for hearing voices and was clearly enjoying herself doing so. Only Zelda was visibly upset at the fact that something very strange was going on with the Triforce.

"We have to talk about this," she whispered in Narala's ear. "Please send them away."

The Zora Queen nodded and did as Zelda has asked. The doctor complied readily enough, after being assured that the queen was in fact not crazy, and that she would talk to her personally about everything later. Kokron, however, was a different matter entirely.

"You can't just kick me out," he protested. "I was chosen by destiny, too! I'm part of all this... whatever this is."

Zelda was about to start an argument, but Narala intervened.

"It should be all right. He's an envoy from King Grangus, whom we were going to inform anyway."

"Yes, the king," Zelda countered, "not his lackey."

"Well, excuse me, princess, but this lackey is officially a part of this fascinating affair," Kokron said. "If there's anybody who should be shown the door, that would be you. After all, you are the only one in here who was _not_ chosen by destiny."

_I'm getting sick of that phrase already. Why do I have the feeling he won't let us forget it?_

"Now you just wait a second," Zelda told the Goron. "Just because–"

"Peace, princess," Narala said. "If King Grangus chose him, I'm sure he is reliable and able to keep a secret. Aren't you?" she asked Kokron.

"Oh, of course," the Goron assured her. "I won't tell anybody except the king, not even under torture. No guarantees if they threaten to drown me, though."

_This is not the time for your Goron humour._

"Knowledge about this cannot be contained in the long term, anyway," Narala said when she saw that Zelda was still not convinced.

"Yes, but in the short term, I could be named betrayer of state secrets by my father!" the princess snapped.

"Surely, you thought of that possibility before you came here?" Narala asked. "Also, please remember that I never promised you confidentiality. This secret is no longer just yours alone to reveal or to keep."

"Fine," Zelda surrendered. "At least let me tell him myself." She cleared her throat and brought Kokron up to speed in regards to the Triforce and what they were planning to do with it. The Goron envoy seemed to understand her words just fine, although the scope and possible ramifications of the whole matter seemed to elude him. He was a simple man, after all.

"So if that Triforce is with your father, how come parts of it wandered here and, uh, entered our bodies? And why am I not feeling any different, if I have a third of some divine power within myself?"

"I can't say for sure," Zelda answered. "I didn't even know it could split, nor do I know why it did. But it seems that the separate pieces only grant lesser power, or perhaps no power at all. I don't know. But it's a fact that two of the pieces are here now, unless both of you misheard."

"Let us think about this in a logical manner," Narala said. "Princess, since both your father and brother were so protective of the Triforce's power, we can assume that neither of them willingly split it or gave it away, so it must have happened by accident or a third party's design."

"Wait," Zelda said, her voice trembling. "There is one reason why my father might want to split the Triforce."

"Of course," Narala understood. "Your father mistrusted his eldest son, and he might have wanted to split the Triforce into three pieces so he would not easily find it. But unless your brother staged a coup or went against the king's orders – which you said he'd never do – there's only one reason for Artaxis to do such a thing: He saw his end coming, and didn't want his son to inherit the whole Triforce. It's a definite possibility."

"I hope you're wrong," Zelda whispered.

"What about her?" Kokron suddenly asked and pointed at the dead Sheikah on the floor. "I don't think this assassination attempt was a coincidence."

"Stranger things have happened," Narala said. "But there's one possible link between the splitting of the Triforce and the assassination attempt. Only a small number of high ranking Hylian court members would know about the Triforce in the first place, and be in a position to split it, intentionally or not. And that Sheikah woman bore a letter with Hyrule's royal seal with her, which I assume only the king or his confidants have access to. While that alone is not proof, it strongly suggests that one and the same person may be behind it all."

"Outside of the royal family, I believe only Arnu and Malark knew about the existence of the Triforce," Zelda said. "And both of them are Sheikah, so they could have sent one of their own." She glanced at the dead assassin.

"I have known Arnu for a long time, and I find it highly unlikely that she would have her own princess killed," Narala said. "And besides, the assassin spoke of a 'Lord', and Arnu doesn't qualify for that."

"I agree," Zelda said. "I can't believe Arnu would try to have me killed. Which leaves only Malark."

Narala considered the man behind the name. Malark, closest confidant to King Artaxis, first of the Seven Sages, master magician. Ever since it had become obvious that the magic practiced by Sheikah and Hylians was a dangerous weapon, the Zora had been keeping files on all magic users that rose to fame at the king's court, always suspicious of their arcane powers which they so closely guarded from the other races. Narala had never met Malark in person, since he did not seem to leave the Keep often, but his reputation was that of a very powerful wizard as well as an influential advisor to the King of Hyrule. Already in as high a position of power as a Sheikah could ever hope to rise, he had never displayed any ambitions beyond that, and her agents considered him an enigmatic, but fundamentally reasonable person. An assessment that did not bring them a single step further.

"He is certainly close enough to the king to have had an opportunity," Narala said, "but we know nothing about his possible motive, nor that of any other suspect. Not to mention that we still don't know why the Triforce has split. We have reached the limits of deduction. Somebody has to go in person to investigate."

"I will go," Zelda immediately volunteered and jumped to her feet. "I was going to leave anyway. My father may have died, and my brothers could be in danger, as well as Arnu. I have to know what's going on at home!"

The princess hurried toward the door, but her legs gave in before she reached it, and only Kokron's quick reaction saved her from hitting the floor face first. She was dizzy and her eyes were out of focus, and the Goron gently led her back to the bed and helped her lie down.

"I agree that you are the only one of us who can investigate the Keep without drawing suspicion," Narala said, "but not in your current state. I will not permit you to travel until the drugs are out of your system. Anything else would be irresponsible."

"You don't get to 'permit' anything," Zelda protested weakly. "I go wherever I want to." But in spite of her words, she did not find the strength to get up again.

"Believe me, I would encourage you to go now if you were able to," Narala said. "This whole Triforce matter is highly explosive, and I wish to learn more about it as soon as possible, but it won't do us any good if you collapse on your way to Keeptown."

"The queen's right," Kokron came to her aid. "You're not strong enough yet. Besides, I can roll across Hyrule field much faster than you can walk." He looked at Narala. "I will go."

_I was afraid he was going to say that..._

"Please, be reasonable, Kokron. You have no excuse to be in Keeptown and no connections to the court. I really appreciate your offer, but there is very little you could do."

"Hm. Fine, I see your point," the Goron admitted to Narala's great relief. "But once Zelda is up and around again, I'll accompany her. After all, somebody could try to kill her again."

"No," the princess interjected. "Whoever wanted me dead didn't dare do it in the Keep, and waited for me to leave it. So they don't feel secure enough to attack me there. I'll be all right."

"And besides that, the Triforce mark on your hand would only arouse suspicion and make Zelda's mission of information gathering more difficult," Narala added.

"Why do I get the feeling you don't trust a commoner to get anything right," Kokron grumbled.

"It's not like that!" the queen and the princess simultaneously exclaimed.

"I was joking. In part, at least. But I give up, you can go alone. But you'll keep us informed! Send couriers on your... your... what do you call these beasts again?"

"Horses?"

"Yes! You can tell them that you've become pen pals with the queen or something. Send a message everyday. Not just to keep us in the loop, but also so we know that nothing bad happened to you!" Kokron seemed genuinely concerned about Zelda, perhaps because the Gorons' unisexual society did not allow for much practical application of chivalry.

"I agree with you," Narala said, and Kokron did not hide his surprise at this unexpected source of support; he had probably expected to be lambasted for being overly concerned. "Since I assume you'll want to stay around until we've learned the truth behind all this, and I also have to cancel my visit to your people, I'll send a letter to King Grangus that details everything we've learned so far. I would really like to hear his opinion on this matter. Don't worry," she looked at Zelda, "I'll send a messenger who would rather die than give up the contents of the letter."

"Perhaps Kokron should carry the letter," Zelda suggested. "If he stays here, he'll only be drawn deeper into this mess, and he already risked his life once for my sake."

"Ha! What are you talking about? Did you forget about this?" Kokron extended his right hand that bore the Triforce Mark. "Im already as deep into this as it gets – not that I'm complaining, mind you. And it wasn't even your fault to begin with. I was chosen by destiny, remember? Would you go against destiny? No, I didn't think so." He grinned. "If there's a conspiracy afoot, you can count on me, no matter who or what we're up against. I'll face them anytime, anywhere. That's what heroes do!"

_We can definitely trust this one. That naive belief that courage alone can make the world a better place can't possibly be faked._

_But on the other hand... if this is what it means to be naive, I'm not sure I still want to be sophisticated._

Narala banished those useless thoughts from her mind, and rose from the corner of the bed Zelda was lying in.

"Then it's settled. We should let the princess rest. Please, take all the time you need to recover."

"But we may not have much time!" Zelda cried out. "My father and Darion could be in danger!"

Narala lowered her head and looked into the eyes of the princess who seemed to be fighting back tears. "In regards to our fears of conspiracy, I will send a messenger to Keeptown immediately, to warn the king and prince and also inform them that you survived an attempt on your life. Surely, that will cause them to investigate and increase their own security. Right now, that's all we can do."

Zelda sniffed and nodded. "But what about the Triforce?"

"It's very important, obviously, but we are no longer pressed for time. Do you remember our plan of locking away the Triforce and splitting the keys among the different races?" Narala raised her hand, presenting the golden imprint on its back to Zelda. "The way things have worked out is not much different from that plan, except that the Triforce itself was split, and not the key. As long as Kokron and I stay away from whoever holds the third piece, the Triforce can't be reunited. That's what the voice said, at least."

"All right," Zelda agreed after some consideration. "I realize you're doing everything that can be done. I was asking you to make everything all right, which isn't something an adult should ask for." She rubbed her eyes, lowered her head onto the pillow and covered herself with the blanket. "I'll try to sleep now."

"Please do that. I'll have the doctor check on you from time to time." Narala glanced at Kokron. "Let's leave her alone."

The Goron nodded and left the room before her, holding up the door for the queen, who graced him with a half-amused, half-grateful smile. He hit his own head with his palm as though he had forgotten something and returned into the room, re-appearing seconds later with the Sheikah woman's corpse carelessly thrown over his shoulder.

"Wouldn't do to leave that in there, would it?"

"No, it certainly wouldn't," Narala said bashfully. The dead Zora guard had already been removed at her command and was being readied for his funeral rites, but she had completely forgotten about the other corpse in the room, even though she had passed it on her way out.

_These Sheikah really have a way of becoming invisible, even when they are dead._

"Where do you want me to put this?" Kokron asked.

"Someplace cool and dry. We have to preserve it as evidence, at least for some time. Let me think... yes, archives will do nicely. Although the chronicler may have a fit when he sees her."

"Some things can't be helped," Kokron grumbled and joined the queen on her way down the corridor. They did not come far before Narala stopped and burst out in laughter: The image of the massive Goron walking next to her with a dead body dangling over his back like a doll was just too bizarre not to be funny.

"We are truly living in strange times," she said after calming down.

"Strange, but interesting," Kokron agreed. "But as long as we can laugh about it, we'll make it through."

It was then that Narala realized that she had been wrong to think of this Goron as a muscle-brained simpleton, for he had a wisdom of his own.

"You are right," she said and continued down the corridor. "We'll make it through."


	16. The King's Exit

**Chapter 16: The King's Exit**

The two cloaked women climbed down from the Keep's outer wall, finding as many secure handholds between the massive blocks of stone as on their way up. They hid behind a nearby bush and remained motionless until they were sure nobody had heard or seen them. Then they swiftly passed through the courtyard under the full moon's light, covered in white cloaks, looking like ghosts coming back to haunt those who had wronged them.

They entered the Keep through an unlocked door and found themselves in a corridor lit by regularly spaced torches. They quickly closed the door behind them after making sure that there were no guards or patrols to be seen in either direction.

"Now, to find the dungeon," Koume whispered, taking the lead. "It can't be that difficult. We just have to walk around until we find some stairs that go down."

"I still can't believe we're going back in there," Kotake complained. "The things I'll do..."

"We'll free Garanth and be gone again before you know it. Come on, this way is as good as any."

Randomly following the Keep's corridors, the sisters passed through a kitchen and an armoury, picking several locks as they went. They encountered no guards, since most of the garrison was probably fast asleep, relying on the protection of the thick stone walls. Still, being discovered would spell disaster, and so they carefully peeked around every corner before taking a turn. In spite of the obvious need for silence, Kotake kept badgering Koume, who was unable to make her shut up.

"We are endangering ourselves for nothing! How often do I have to tell you? He'll play the martyr of justice and say he can't escape because that would mean admitting his guilt!"

"Meh. If he does that, we can still knock him out and drag him out of here," Koume said.

"Great idea. I'm sure he'll he overjoyed once he wakes up."

"You don't have to be here if you don't want to. I can do this alone, you know."

"No, you can't," Kotake said. "You need me to look after you. Even though you're the older one. It's embarrassing, really."

"I'm not older than – ssh! Silence!"

The hinges of a door creaked somewhere nearby, followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching from the left. With no time to weigh the risk of discovery, Koume pressed down the handle of the nondescript door they had just passed, hoping it was not locked. It was not, and she quickly entered the dark room, pulled Kotake behind her, and closed the door again, leaving open a small slit to peek through.

A bulky, shaven headed wearing a long knife at his side passed the corridor, walking straight past the door that stood slightly ajar without looking at it. He softly hummed, which sounded strange, coming from a muscular, brutish-looking man like him, and was obviously looking forward to something. He left Koume's sight quickly, and, wondering why such a shady-looking figure was wandering the Keep in the dead of night, she quickly left the dark room again, blurting out a quick "Come on!" between her teeth.

"That was not a broom closet, you know!" Kotake whispered heatedly after closing the door. "There was somebody sleeping in there! If they had woken up-"

"They didn't. Now shut up. We're following him." Koume hurried after the man so as not to lose him, and her sister reluctantly followed.

"What? Why?" Kotake asked, finally in a hushed tone. "Do you want us to get us killed?"

"That man has the look of a torturer. He may lead us to the king."

"You're being strangely assertive for once," Kotake said. "You really want to prove yourself to our sad excuse for a king, don't you?"

"I said be silent, or he'll hear us!"

"Not with that melody he's humming."

"I don't think that's even a melody."

The humming man turned a corner, and the sound of his steps changed from that of boots on a carpet to boots on bare stone. Koume peeked around the corner and saw the man descending a spiral staircase.

"Looks like I was right," she boasted to Kotake as they followed him at a safe distance. "Unless you think the dungeons are on the first floor, and he's just visiting a secret massage parlour."

"Shut up, or he'll hear us."

"That's my line."

The man clad in black – Koume could only see him from behind, but she had a hunch that he was a Sheikah – never once looked behind himself, either oblivious or self-confident, still humming his arrhythmical little tune. The spiral staircase led into a long, narrow corridor with a high, arched ceiling and no other exit or entrance. Half a dozen metal doors on either of the walls, bolted with heavy locks, attested to the purpose of the vault.

"The dungeon!" Koume whispered. "I knew it."

"Excuse me if I don't clap, but he would hear it."

The man with the shaven head produced a key from his pockets, unlocked the second door to the left, and threw it open. He made a single step forward but did not enter the cell; he simply blocked the frame with his bulk and addressed the prisoner inside.

"Wake up, desert rat!"

Watching from the bottom of the staircase, the sisters did not even flinch at this common insult against the Gerudo, but Garanth was more sheltered than them, having left the desert seldom or never.

"Is that how you repay my good will?" his voice resounded from within the cell. "By insulting me? It seems that your master is a hypocrite. Just as I was a trusting fool."

"He's making real progress," Kotake said approvingly. "Now let's free him!"

"Wait! Let's listen for a moment. We may learn something."

"I'm not calling you a rat because I was told to," the man said. "I'm calling you a rat because you are a rat. Now shut up."

"I assume you've come to 'interrogate' me?" Garanth scoffed. "You look the part. But I'll never confess to a crime I did not commit." There was a hint of fear in his voice, but he managed to hide it fairly well, Koume thought.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm not here to make you talk. I'm here to make you stop talking." The man laughed. "Tomorrow, the warden will see that the king of desert rats killed himself by bashing his head against the wall of his cell. What a pathetic end." He entered the cell and vanished from the twins' sight.

"You would murder an unarmed prisoner? You would drop even the flimsiest pretence of – let go of me!"

A thump echoed from within the cell, followed by Garanth's scream. Then another.

"Stop it, you bastard!" Koume shouted, drew one of her sabres and rushed down the narrow corridor and into the cell. The hairless man was holding the defenceless Gerudo king by the shoulders, about to bash his head against the already bloodied wall for a third time, but turned around on the spot when the frenzied woman entered the cell and glared at her with blood-shot eyes, letting go of his victim. His hands wandered to the knives fastened on his belt, but they never reached them: Unwilling to give this brute so much as a fighting chance, Koume thrust her sabre at his waist, and the blade pierced his leather armour as well as the soft flesh beneath. The man gasped in pain, spat blood which spattered on her face, and sank to the ground without another word. Garanth drew himself up to his knees, holding his bloodied head with both hands, and looked at his saviour with astonishment.

"Ko... Kotake? Why are you... argh... my head..."

Surprised and shocked by her own actions, Koume did not bother to correct him.

_I killed him! I killed somebody!_

She took a deep breath to prevent herself from panicking.

_Calm down. He's dead. It's too late. And I had no choice!_

She lowered her gaze and looked at the dead Sheikah who had been about to brutally kill an innocent Gerudo.

_He deserved it. Anybody would agree. Anybody._

Koume gently nudged the body with her left foot, just to make sure he was dead. He did not stir. Nor did his vengeful ghost suddenly appear before her and berate her for ending his life. Perhaps she had been too squeamish before.

_Killing is really not that hard... I could probably do it again._

Kotake appeared in the door frame behind her and whistled approvingly.

"Wow, you actually killed a Hylian. I'm impressed." Kotake narrowed her eyes and looked at Garanth's bloody scalp. "Are you all right?" she asked skeptically.

"I hope so," the king answered. "But my head won't let me forget this day for a while." He groaned in pain. "Give me a minute to until the worst has passed, then we can leave."

Koume nodded, but before the minute was over, voices coming from the staircase alerted them that somebody was descending to the dungeon. Startled, the sisters looked around, but there was no other way out of the room, which should not have come as a surprise, considering that it was a dungeon.

"We're trapped! What now?" Koume whispered.

Kotake looked into the corridor.

"One of the cells in the rear! Come on!"

_Not exactly a great place to hide_, Koume thought, but it was better than nothing. "Can you walk?" she asked Garanth, but Kotake did not wait for his answer and quickly grabbed the king's shoulders.

"You take the legs. Hurry!"

Koume obeyed, and the sisters carried Garanth into the cell farthest away from the stairs, leaving the door slightly ajar so they could peek outside. Mere seconds later, two people came down the stairs, one of them a brown-haired young man wearing a thin silver circlet on his head and a scabbarded sword on his side. The other was cloaked in black, and the sisters recognized him immediately as the Sheikah who had led them into the throne room, and thus was to blame for the whole mess they were currently in. Koume considered attacking them, but coordinating with her sister would have been difficult in the confines of the narrow corridor. Besides, the way the young man carried himself made him appear like a very competent fighter, in spite of his age.

_There's something strange about him_, Koume shuddered. _It's like an aura of power... I'm not sure we could take him even in the open. And there's still that creepy Sheikah who's probably a warlock or something._

The young Hylian was about to enter the dungeon proper, but his companion held him back on the lowest stair.

"Your highness, please! You should wait with this until you've calmed down, or you'll just-"

"I assure you, I am perfectly calm," the young man replied, shaking off the Sheikah's hand. "I merely want to have a little chat with my father's murderer."

"But you agreed tat we should give him the benefit of-"

"I changed my mind."

"You're just frustrated because we lost the Triforce, and now you want to lash out at the closest convenient target!" the Sheikah said. "At least wait until tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow we'll start our hunt for the other Triforce pieces. Tonight I'll spend down here. And I'll keep myself busy..."

While the Sheikah continued to implore the young Hylian, who responded with increasing anger, Kotake whispered something to Koume, her head peeking out of the cell above her sister's.

"I know that man!"

"Yes, he's the one who framed Garanth," Koume said – did her sister think she had not recognized that rasping voice?

"No, the Hylian! He's the drunkard from before!"

_Nonsense_, Koume wanted to answer, but now that she looked at him again, it seemed like a definite possibility, since they had only seen the man in the dark before.

_But that was less than an hour ago, and now he looks completely sober and even kind of scary! What's up with him?_

_And that thing about 'his father's murderer'... does that mean he is the prince? Hm, that would explain the circlet. Why didn't we notice that back then, anyway?_

"I'm interrogating him, and that's final!" the presumed prince barked at his robed companion. "You don't have to come with me if you're too squeamish to watch! Why are you following my every step, anyway?"

"You wound me, your highness. I was your father's most trusted advisor."

"Advise me all you like, but don't presume to tell me what I should or shouldn't do!"

"As you wish," the old man answered, a deathly chill in his voice that seemed completely lost to the prince who now entered the corridor.

"Which cell is it?"

"Ask the warden," the Sheikah replied snippily. "But you'll have to wake him for that."

"Never mind that, I'll just look – what's that?" He noticed the open door leading to Garanth's former cell and cautiously approached it, the robed man following close behind him. The prince reached the door and looked inside, then recoiled back in surprise after seeing the corpse of Garanth's would-be executioner and no trace of the Gerudo King.

"He's gone, Malark! He escaped!"

The old Sheikah scurried to his master's side to confirm his words for himself, and Koume thought that he was not too displeased with the prisoner's escape.

_Come on, go inside so we can lock you in! Wouldn't that be ironic?_

"Who is this man?" the prince asked, with no intention to enter the cell. "Why is he in there, dead? Was he the one who helped him, or did he try to stop him?"

"I think I know this one, Prince Darion," Malark said. "He is one of the warden's assistants. Somebody must have infiltrated the Keep and followed him. They waited until he unlocked the door, then murdered him."

"Treacherous Gerudo!" the man named Darion spat. "And you believed him when he surrendered? You should have expected something like this!"

"Your majesty, I-"

"No time for excuses! We must search for them, and fast! They can't be far away, that man is still bleeding! They may even still be around here!" Darion took a step back and drew his long, slender blade. "Ever since getting the Triforce of Power, my sword-arm feels twice as strong, and I would like to test it!"

The prince tried the door next to Garanth's former cell, and then the one next to that. If he continued, the three Gerudo hiding in the farthest cell would be discovered within seconds.

"This is bad," Koume whispered.

"I told you we should have slit his throat," Kotake hissed. "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

The sisters prepared themselves to sell their lives as dearly as possible, but salvation came from an unexpected source: Malark, who stopped his mster in his tracks after wiggling his fingers in a strange manner.

"They are no longer in the Keep, Prince Darion. There's no point in searching. You know that I can feel recent uses of magic, yes? Well, there are strong traces in that cell. Whoever broke the Gerudo out used a teleportation spell to escape."

"We did?" Koume whispered nonplussed.

"Silence!" her sister hissed.

"Make up your mind, Malark!" the prince told his advisor. "Didn't you tell me half an hour ago that teleport magic is difficult and rare?"

"That was the truth, and it still is. But who knows what kind of magics the desertfolk have a access to."

"Damn those rats!" Darion kicked one of the cell doors in frustration. Then he re-sheathed his sword and glared at the Sheikah as if he had personally aided the prisoner's escape.

"There's no need for an investigation anymore! He has admitted his guilt by escaping! I'll have a price put on his head!"

"He would be stupid to show his face anywhere near Keeptown again," the man named Malark pointed out.

"Then I'll follow the rat to his desert and drive him out!"

_Yeah, like you'd ever even find us! The desert is no place for you. Stick to your stone castle._

"Don't you have more important things to do?" Malark suggested. "Like searching for the Triforce pieces?"

The prince repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists.

"You're right," he said. "I must calm down. My revenge can wait. But I will not forget it!"

"I'm sure you won't," Malark said dryly. "And now, if I may still presume to offer you advice, I'd advise you to get some rest. You wouldn't want to be all worn-out on the day of your coronation."

"There will be no coronation, Malark," Darion stated. "Not before I get back my inheritance."

The old Sheikah raised an eyebrow. "That would be... unprecedented. Questions will be raised."

"Let them question, as long as they obey. Anyway, I don't think I can sleep yet. I have much thinking to do. But what about you? You didn't look very good back there, after the Triforce vanished."

Malark dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand.

"I was merely reeling from the surprise. But I trust that you will re-assemble the Triforce as you promised, no matter how long it takes. And believe me: I am a very patient man."

The two men left the dungeon, ascending the spiral staircase and finally allowing the sisters to breathe prolonged sighs of relief.

"That was way too close," Kotake said. "I'm not following you on a suicide mission ever again."

"We aren't even finished with this one yet," Koume answered.

"Yes, you're right! We might still be killed. How reassuring."

"Stop bickering," the king's voice came from behind them, "you're not helping my headache." Garanth had managed to get to his feet and was leaning against the cell's wall.

"Did you get all that?" Koume asked.

"Most of it. But it was a very strange exchange."

"Totally," Koume said. "Because I don't remember us teleporting out of here."

"Yes, that was a strange thing to say," Garanth nodded. "So either this Malark has no clue what he's talking about or he didn't want the prince to organize a search."

"I'll go with no clue," Kotake snorted.

"But he's the one who framed Garanth in the first place!" her sister protested. "He doesn't want him caught because he might prove his innocence! This Malark character is the one who killed the King of Hyrule! And he sent his Sheikah minion down here to silence Garanth, because a dead scapegoat is better than a live one!"

"Yes, I agree with your deduction," Garanth said. "Something is rotten at this court, and Malark must be at the centre of it."

Only now Kotake remembered the hatred she had seen in the Sheikah's eyes when he had spoken about his people's service to the king. Indeed, he was likely to be the mastermind behind everything. But did that matter? The prince was no better, nor were any of his kind.

"It's not just him who's rotten," she said. "That's how all Hylians are."

"I am not ready to believe that," Garanth said.

"You aren't? Didn't you listen to this fine young prince who declared you guilty without even meeting you once, who wanted to torture a confession out of you, and who is now going to put a bounty on your head? And all that after his closest advisor tried to have your skull smashed to bits!" She talked herself into a rage. "I know you believe in the goodness of all people, but this is naive even for you! Have you suffered brain damage? How much more evidence do you need that they are all rotten to the core?"

Instead of answering her rage with anger of his own, Garanth remained calm.

"The prince certainly said some terrible things, and might even have gone through with them, but he's still young and not beyond redemption. Remember, his father just died, and this evil man is using his grief to manipulate him."

"So you want to talk to him? Is that it? Try to clear your name? I'm sure he'll listen to you. Completely unbiased!"

"I'm afraid your sarcasm lacks bite. I'm well aware that in the prince's current state of mind, approaching him would be suicidal. Which is why I'll be going home without any more delays."

"Thank you!" Kotake gave her sister a relieved look. "At least he hasn't completely lost it."

"I'll be going home," the Gerudo King repeated, "but you two will stay here and perform a task for me – one that will improve the chance for peace between the Hylians and us."

"I can't believe it. I'm taking back everything I just said." Kotake looked to the ceiling in despair. "What do you have in mind for us? Convince the prince of your innocence while dodging his sword? Or maybe open a shop in town and sell desert delicacies to create good will?"

"Much simpler," Garanth said. "Kill Malark."

"What?" the sisters asked simultaneously.

"I'd prefer exposing him, but he's slippery and probably covering his tracks, so killing him will have to suffice. But you must be very careful about it. Slit his throat while he sleeps, preferably."

"Koume? I think we freed an impostor. This doesn't sound like King High-and-mighty at all." Kotake looked at Garanth quizically. "I thought you gave out standing orders not to kill Hylians?"

"He's a Sheikah, not a Hylian," Garanth said with a short laugh. "But I'm not going to split hairs. In spite of what you may think, what happened to me today in reward for my good will has led me to re-evaluate my world-view. Don't worry – I'm still King High-and-mighty, and I won't let you forget it. But against some people, being overly moral only means sabotaging yourself. Therefore, I want you to bring me Malark's head to the oasis."

"Sure thing," Koume answered, not nearly as surprised by the king's turnaround as her sister, perhaps because she had experienced a similar re-evaluation today.

"Wait, what is it with you two, being so bloodthirsty all of a sudden?" Kotake asked. "And why should we accept this mission in the first place?"

"The same reason you came back for me," Garanth said sagely. "Whatever that reason is."

"Don't worry," Kotake replied wryly, "I don't know it myself."

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

Kotake looked at her sister.

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes. We're still Gerudo. He tried to have our king murdered. That's not something we can forgive."

"But they'll hate us even more for that!"

"They already think we killed their king." Koume shrugged. "I don't think a creepy old man would make much of a difference."

"He talked about sensing magic! Which means he's probably a wizard!"

"Wizards bleed, too. Or are you just looking for an excuse? I can do this alone, you know."

"You already said that once before, and it didn't work on me!"

"Did it?"

"Oh, fine. It's not like I've got anything better to do, and since we're already here..."

_That one always works. We are inseparable, after all._

"Splendid," Garanth said. "Now that this is settled, I really want to get out of here. Please show me to he exit."

Without any more arguments, whispered or otherwise, the twins led Garanth back the way they had come into the Keep's courtyard. In spite of his head injuries, he kept up with their speed without complaining or asking them to slow down. Koume had always thought of the king as soft and weak, but tonight he had proven himself to be much more resilient than she or her sister had expected.

"So this is goodbye for now," he said as they reached the Keep's outer wall.

"I can barely hold back the tears," Kotake mocked.

"Don't rush things," Garanth cautioned them. "Watch, lurk, and then strike when he doesn't expect it. Try not to kill anybody else – that order still stands. Once Malark is dead, get out of here as quickly as you can. The Hylians won't appreciate what you did – they probably never will – but with Malark's influence gone, things in this Keep might change for the better, at least in the long term."

"That's fine," Kotake said, "nobody ever appreciates anything we do. It's the curse of being free spirits."

"You'll find your own way from here?" Koume asked skeptically.

"Just help me up there and I'll be fine," Garanth replied.

The sisters scaled the wall and helped the king climb it from the top. For a minute or so, he stood on the wall without moving and overlooked the sleeping town below, followed by a last glance over his shoulder at the Keep.

"So this is the end of my peace efforts," he said. "With the Hylians convinced that we murdered their king they will surely hate us for a long time to come, and killing that foul wizard will not change this, as much as it needs to be done. So where do we go from here?"

"We continue as we always have," Kotake replied. "They hate us, but stay out of our desert because they'd never defeat us there. And we hate them, and continue living our meagre lives. And perhaps steal a little here and there."

"Maybe our generation isn't meant to see lasting peace," Garanth mused. "But maybe, in the far future, a successor of mine will visit the King of Hyrule with peace and friendship in his heart. Maybe he will lead our people out of that blasted desert into a better future." He smiled. "A man is allowed to dream, isn't he? At any rate, thank you for coming back for me. I'll await you at the oasis. Good luck."

Before either sister could answer anything, Garanth was already climbing down the outer wall. He reached the ground and vanished in a dark alley without looking back. Koume and Kotake glanced at each other, shrugged, and climbed down the wall on the other side, returning into the courtyard.

"So, where are we going to hide anyway?" Kotake asked.

"We look around while it's still dark and get a good feeling for the place, then we'll decide," Koume answered.

"Sounds good."

The sisters crossed the courtyard, this time into another direction, toward a different door. The Keep was still as silent as before, the concept of nightly patrols apparently foreign to the Hylians.

"Hey, Kotake," Koume asked as she tried to pick the locked door leading into one of the corner towers, "what's a Triforce?"

"Huh? Sounds kind of familiar..."

"The prince mentioned it earlier."

"Ah, I remember. I think it vanished or something, right?"

"Yes. So what is it?"

"I have no idea."

"How disappointing. Isn't the older sister also supposed to be the smarter one?"

"I'm younger than you."

"No, you aren't."

"Shut up."


	17. A Friendly Duel

**Chapter 17: A Friendly Duel**

When Link woke up, he found himself tied to the back of a galloping horse, and his head bobbed with every leap the mount made. Since he disliked being tied on principle, he drowsily struggled against the grey rope restraining him. He was not yet astute enough to think of what would happen to him if he managed to free himself, but fortunately for him, somebody else was.

"Hey, Link! Stop moving! Or do you want to fall off the horse? That happened to me once, and trust me, it's a lot more painful than it looks!"

General Thallius' voice snapped Link out of his sleepiness, and he stopped struggling against his ties. He lifted his head and saw Arnu and Thallius riding on the same horse next to his, still enveloped by the sphere of magical light.

"You slept almost the whole way across Hyrule Field," Thallius shouted over the noise of the hoofbeats, "and now we're almost in Keeptown. You woke up at the right time."

"Well, untie me!" Link shouted back. "And tell that horse to slow down!" He was already getting dizzy, and he did not want to empty the contents of his stomach over the horses's side. Then again, he had not eaten anything since breakfast this morning – or should that be the previous morning? – so even he were to throw up, he would come up empty. But he still wanted to get off that horse.

"Stop complaining," Arnu shouted. "He already let you have his horse. We're not stopping now, we'll get you off of there once we're at the Keep."

"You can't drag me through town like this!" Link protested. "It's humiliating."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's in the middle of the night, so nobody will see you, or recognize you if they do."

Thallius, who was sitting behind Arnu on her horse, shrugged and gave Link a pitying look that seemed to say 'Sorry, but there's nothing I can do'. Wordlessly cursing the general for his lack of backbone against the Sheikah sage, Link resigned himself to his fate and closed his eyes, hoping that it would take the edge of the dizziness. And maybe the childish belief that one cannot not be seen by anybody as long as one's eyes are shut might prove true once in a lifetime, so that anybody who still walked the streets of Keeptown at this time would not remember his face.

Few minutes later, the sound of the hoofbeats changed, and Link knew that they were no longer riding on grassy ground, but on paved roads. Their speed also decreased, but he did not take the risk of opening his eyes until they had come to a stop several minutes later. He heard the guards at the gates greet the new arrivals and inquire about their companion's health.

"I'm fine," he said and looked pleadingly at the guard. "Now if you could help me off of here..."

"Do it," Thallius confirmed, and the soldier untied Link, who slid off the horse's back and barely managed not to collapse into a heap. His chest was hurting badly, and his sense of balance was still out of whack.

"When I said you'd learn how to ride really fast, I wasn't thinking about this," Thallius joked. "But that was the only way to make sure you wouldn't fall, while still allowing you to sleep. And you needed it, considering what you went through."

"Where did you get this from?" Link asked and picked up the grey rope that had bound him.

"Yes, about that..." Thallius shot an awkward glance at Arnu. "She conjured it up. Magic is handy, isn't it?"

"It's very difficult to 'conjure up' something from nothing," the Sheikah sage said and plucked out one of her grey hairs. "Making something bigger is easy, though."

"At any rate," Thallius said hastily and addressed one of the soldiers standing watch at the gate, "please bring the horses to the stables. We have important business inside." He looked at Arnu. "We probably shouldn't disturb the king's sleep, so for now let's wake up Malark and see how he reacts to our little tale."

Link noticed that one of the soldiers coughed when Thallius mentioned the king, and the others gazed at the ground with sorrow in their eyes. Arnu answered something to Thallius, so neither of them took note of it.

"Uh, General Thallius," the soldier who had coughed finally said, "we probably should have told you right away... I'm sorry, Sir, but the king is dead."

Link could contain his surprise, given that he had heard people talk about 'the old king' for as long as he could remember, and even a king had to die sooner or later. Thallius and Arnu were visibly shocked, though, probably because they had known the king personally and mourned his loss.

_I already have lots of people to grieve about_, Link thought, and he pushed aside the images of his friends, parents and the four dead soldiers. _I can't burden myself with an old man who's led a long life and whom I've never met._ Regardless of his thoughts, he still put on an expression of moderate mournfulness, not wishing to stand out.

"Malark!" Arnu finally hissed. "I knew he wanted us away from the Keep for something!"

Thallius shook his head in disbelief. "He wouldn't go that far!"

"We can't take a chance on that! I say we take matters into our own hands."

The guards followed the argument between Arnu and Thallius with increasingly shocked expressions, and Link feared they might interpret 'taking matters into their own hands' as treasonous intentions against a respected court member, so he put a hand on each of the quarrellers' arms and said:

"This is not a good place for arguing. Let's go someplace where we're alone."

Arnu grudgingly nodded, and Thallius told the soldiers that everything was in order and they should stay on their posts. Then he followed Arnu who furiously stomped into the courtyard and vanished around a corner, Link close behind her. They stopped in a gap between the outer wall and a building and resumed their argument.

"We have to do something about Malark, or he'll do... something horrible!" Arnu wrung her hands.

"Calm down, Arnu," Thallius said. "If he really had wanted to kill the king, then why didn't he do it decades ago? And what would he have to gain?"

"I already told you I've got a reason to suspect him, and that it's classified under the king's orders."

"Well, the king's dead," Link pointed out. "Doesn't that make his orders null and void?"

"That is not how it works," Arnu replied. "Unless Prince Darion countermands them, the orders stand."

"Arnu," Thallius interjected, "how can you expect us to trust you when you don't trust us? I promise silence on this matter, as will Link, I'm sure."

"I guess I can rely on you keeping your mouth shut," she sighed, "but I barely even know this boy."

"Stop calling me a boy already!" Link snapped.

"I trust him, Arnu," Thallius said before she could get back at Link, "so you can trust him by proxy."

Link wondered whether Thallius really trusted him that much or whether he simply said it to placate Arnu because he was eager to hear what she had to say. At any rate, the Sheikah sage seemed to be torn on the issue, arguing silently with herself.

"I want to know, too," he decided to back up Thallius. "I won't help you entrap Malark if I don't know why you suspect him."

Arnu glared at him, then lowered her head in surrender. "Fine," she said and summoned a transparent green sphere around the group. Link barely even flinched; he was getting used to her magic tricks fast.

"This will keep anybody from listening in."

"We're all ears," Thallius said, and Link nodded.

"Both of you have heard of the Triforce," Arnu began, "the golden triangles that were supposedly left behind by the Goddesses after the creation of the world. It was thought to be a legend, until the day somebody went and found it."

"You mean that thing really exists?" Thallius asked and looked at the Hylian crest on his chest amour. "And it was kept secret... but why?"

"Because this Triforce can, essentially, turn the one who uses it into a god. As far as we know, it can be used to accomplish pretty much anything – manipulate the weather, kill people in great numbers-"

"The plague!" Link blurted out. _So that's why it suddenly vanished! The people were right when they spoke of 'divine intervention'!_

"Precisely, young man. The King of Hyrule is the master of the Triforce, and he used it to wipe out the plague."

"Why didn't he–" Link began, but Arnu raised both palms in front of her and shook her head.

"I tried to talk his majesty into doing it sooner, but he refused, for reasons that I don't have to justify."

"How did you know what I was going to ask?" Link muttered, but then realized that it was a rather obvious question. "I'd love to thanks _his majesty _for taking his sweet time," he added with unconcealed bitterness.

"The king is dead now, so it's a moot point," Arnu said dryly. "At any rate, the curing of the plague should be all the proof you need to believe me."

"I believe it," Thallius said. "I have been wondering about that anyway..."

"Everyone did," Link said. "But since it's a secret, nobody could explain it."

"And a secret it will remain," Arnu said. "I must remind you of your promise not to talk about it." She gave Link and the general a threatening glare, then continued.

"At any rate, Malark did not know about the Triforce's existence – in part because of my warnings to his majesty, I guess – until recently. For some reason, he was selected to accompany the king in my stead when he went to cure the plague."

"You seem to have fallen out of the king's favour," Thallius joked. "Must have been your attitude."

"Be that as it may," Arnu said coolly, "that day was when Malark learned about the Triforce, and I fear he killed the king to get his hands on it. He probably thinks Darion will be easy to manipulate to use the Triforce to further Malark's goals."

"And what would these goals be?" Thallius asked. "Do you think he has a hidden agenda?"

"I have reasons to doubt his loyalty to the kingdom," Arnu simply said. "He bears a grudge against the Hylians that runs very deep, or so he told me once." She sighed. "Of course he said it was a joke immediately afterwards, but I don't believe it."

"I'd rather believe that Malark made a joke than that he's plotting treason," Thallius said. "Though neither seems particularly likely to me. We should proceed as we discussed, and try to bluff and see whether he gives himself away."

"I suggested that idea before we knew about the king's death," Arnu said. "Now I think that stronger measures are called for."

"Careful, Arnu," Thallius said. "Interrogating Malark under false pretences is already a rather un-knightly thing to do. I won't support your 'stronger measures' without proof!"

"You are far too trusting," Arnu complained. "Your 'knightly ways' are going to get you killed one of these days."

Link sighed and let his eyes wander as the two argued about the proper course of action; somehow, he didn't think he'd get much of a say about it either way. And besides, all this talk about courts conspiracies, magical artifacts and potentially evil wizards made him feel a bit out of his league. Then he saw something that startled him immensely, something the two squabblers certainly would want to know about.

"Uh, about this Malark..." he asked in Arnu's general direction. "He's a Sheikah, like you? Red eyes and all?"

"Yes, why?"

"He doesn't happen to wear a black cloak with a hood?"

"He does. How did you know?"

"Because he's standing right there watching us."

Arnu and Thallius immediately turned into the direction Link was pointing, and saw the cloaked figure standing less than ten feet away in the darkness, observing them without movement or sound. Both of them gasped when they saw him, even though they should have been used to his admittedly slightly creepy sight.

"Damn it, he must have heard everything we said!" Thallius swore.

"No, he didn't," Arnu said. "We're within a field of silence. Of course he's powerful enough to pierce it, but I would have noticed that."

"So what do we do?" Link asked.

"I'd like to put him in chains," Arnu grumbled. "But since the knightly general here doesn't agree, just tell him the story about Unthok. Remember, tell him he explicitly named Malark as his master!"

The wizard was still watching them, not acknowledging at all that he had been discovered. Link wondered not for the first time about the wisdom of lying to this man (what had Thallius called him? A creep? It seemed fitting), but decided to go along with it, since Arnu and Thallius were with him.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it."

"Try not to stutter when you speak. And don't look at the ground, look him in the face the whole time! And not a word about the Triforce!"

"Yes, I know. I have lied before."

"I hope you're convincing. I'll lower the field now."

The green bubble vanished, and Malark took that as a sign to approach the group, and Link could inspect him up close. The Sheikah wizard was about as tall and Link, but very thin, and walked with a slight hunch. His hair was either short or non-existent; Link could not tell due to the hood, his features covered in shadows except for the striking eyes. His gaze stopped at Thallius for a split second, passed over Link as though he was completely insignificant, then remained fixed on Arnu.

"Why did you sneak up on us like that?" she demanded. "You nearly gave us heart-attacks!"

"I was politely waiting for you to finish your conversation," Malark said, his voice like a grater. "I assume you have already learned about the king?"

"So it's true? How did it happen?" Thallius asked lividly.

"In his sleep, presumably. There are no visible wounds, but he was alone with a Gerudo when it happened. The suspect was taken into custody, naturally, but... I'm afraid he escaped with help from outside. I set up a number of wards on the grounds that would alert me in case of any unusual activity. Your field of silence triggered these alerts, and that is why I'm here."

"How is the prince?" Thallius asked.

"As you can imagine, he did not take the news very well, but he is in good health otherwise, and determined to follow in his father's footsteps. I asked him to get some sleep, and I hope he heeded my advice."

"How strange that all of this happened while we were away." Arnu pursed her lips, challenging Malark with her eyes.

"As senior advisor, I believe I handled this tragic situation adequately," Malark said without taking her bait. "Prince Darion, at least, voiced no complaints." That seemed to be the end of it, as far as he was concerned. "Oh, by the way, I trust you took care of that Stalfos infestation?" he asked casually.

"Actually, we have to talk to you about that," Arnu said. "As you may recall, a small band of soldiers was present at the time, and this young man," she pointed at Link, "had them mount a successful defence."

"Impressive," Malark said, without sounding particularly impressed.

"Please tell him your story, Link."

"I really don't think I need to know the details about-"

"Oh, I guarantee you he will spark your interest." Arnu smiled thinly.

The Sheikah wizard frowned, but ceased his protests, and Link faithfully relayed the events that had taken place in the village, with the small addition that Unthok had named Malark as the mastermind behind the incident. Once he had relayed the fabricated accusation, Malark interrupted him and furiously exclaimed: "That idiot!"

A smug grin appeared on Arnu's face, and even Thallius looked at the wizard with distrust.

"Why is he an idiot? Because he failed to keep your involvement a secret?" she asked.

Malark recoiled as if physically struck. "You would insult me by believing the words of that murderous beast over mine? I know we're not on good terms, Arnu, but this is beyond the pale."

"Then how do you explain a Moblin getting his hands on a spellsphere powerful enough to raise three hundred men instantly?"

"How on earth should I know? Perhaps he got it from a rogue Wizzrobe."

"And how do you explain that Unthok knew your name?" Arnu asked.

Malark sighed, which Link thought sounded like the creaking of an ancient door.

"In his unmatched desire to protect his people, the late King Artaxis sent me as an envoy to the Moblins, a little more than a decade ago. I met Unthok then, and tried to negotiate a peace agreement with him. He was strangely forthcoming, and although he refused to sign a treaty, he gave verbal assurances of peace. Another raid a fortnight later belied his words, but what was to be expected. This episode demonstrates how far King Artaxis was ready to go in the name of peace... and how far I was ready to lower myself in his service."

"Negotiations with Moblins?" Arnu made no attempt to hide her skepticism. "A likely story! There wouldn't happen to be any witnesses, would there?"

"As a matter of fact, no, there wouldn't. The king wished to keep the negotiations secret, for obvious reasons, and confided in no one but his wife and myself. However, his invitation to the Gerudo King is proof that King Artaxis was willing to engage in diplomacy with Hyrule's enemies, perhaps at the cost of his own life."

"That's true," Thallius said. "I remember him going through with the idea against the recommendations of most of his advisors. Trying to make a deal with the Moblins is not out of character for him. And the negotiations would explain how Unthok learned Malark's name."

"Then why did he name Malark as his master, ten years after meeting him?" Arnu retorted.

"That is a question I cannot answer," the wizard replied, "but I don't have to. Who knows how a Moblin's mind works... I recommend you capture Unthok and make him talk. Until that time, I would like you to stop spreading such baseless accusations against me."

"I wonder, Malark... are accusations of disloyalty against you entirely baseless?" Arnu said with a tone that implied she knew something more. Whatever it was, Malark clearly understood her meaning, for he scowled deeply and raised his chin high.

"You aren't seriously thinking about _that_ time, are you? I told you so often, you read things into my words that were never there. Besides, it has been forty years. Let it go already."

Arnu glared at Malark, and he glared back without flinching. The two Sheikah stared in each others' eyes for a minute, leaving Link and Thallius in awkward silence until the general finally broke it.

"I think Malark's story makes sense and is believable. We should not bother him anymore until real proof surfaces."

Now Arnu glared at him, but for once, the Knight Commander matched her stare. Finally she looked at Link for support, but he shook his head, because there was no reason for him to believe one of them over the other.

"This isn't over," Arnu growled and stomped off. Malark's gaze followed her for a few seconds, his expression hidden under his hood, then he turned around as well and departed from the courtyard into the opposite direction and quickly vanished into the darkness. Thallius cleared his throat and smiled at Link apologetically.

"Those two have a history, and I don't know most of it. Probably some disagreement about proper conduct of wizardry, or something like that. Plain folk like us probably shouldn't know too much about this stuff. Same goes about that whole Triforce business. Just get it out of your head."

Link doubted very much that he would simply be able to forget about tonight's revelation, so he merely gave Thallius a non-committal shrug.

"You better go to the barracks and get yourself some sleep – real sleep, I mean, in a proper bed."

"Actually, I'm far more hungry than sleepy," Link replied. "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

Thallius looked at him in disbelief. "And you're still able to walk? My goodness, Link, get yourself to the kitchen and plunder it! No, don't talk back, I insist. Follow me, I'll show you the way."

Link had not even planned to talk back; in fact, he was very much looking forward to seeing what riches the Keep's kitchen might have in store for him, so he silently followed Thallius as he entered the Keep and led him through a series of empty, same-looking corridors into the kitchen. It was big – no surprise here, considering the Keep's population – and its storerooms filled to the brim with bread, meat, fruit and pretty much everything else that could be classified as food.

"Help yourself," Thallius said. "You certainly need it."

"Thank you, Sir." Link grabbed a plate from a shelf and filled it with a rich assortment of foodstuffs, some of which he had never even seen before, let alone tasted, as well as a huge jug of water from a barrel. He sat down at a table, about to begin eating, but hesitated when he saw Thallius still standing in the opened door.

"It's all right, Sir, I'll find my way out later."

"Ah, good. I'll ride back to look after my men in Gadrin village." He grimaced. "Or what's left of it."

"If you meet my men on the way, please tell them to return to the barracks as soon as possible. They'll get tomorrow off, but after that, it's back to training."

"Good decision," the general nodded. "Let them rest after their ordeal today. You did very well so far."

"Four of them are dead, Sir," Link felt almost obligated to point out.

"I can see you're not too devastated about it. No, don't get me wrong, that's a good thing. If you want to become a regular commander – and you're made of the right stuff – you have to be able to live with the deaths of your men. Again and again." He scratched his head. "Don't ask yourself 'how many are dead', but 'how many are still alive'. That helps."

"I'll do that. Thank you, Sir."

"Good night, Link."

"Good night."

Thallius left the kitchen, and Link began eating in earnest, emptying his plate probably faster than was good for his stomach. After finishing, he rested for five minutes to let the food sink in, then got up and left the kitchen, backtracking the way he and Thallius had taken until he came to an intersection that he did not remember.

_Now which way to take... right or left? Or did I already take a wrong turn? Why do these corridors all have to look the same, anyway? They should lay different-coloured carpets or something._

He arbitrarily decided to go left, and followed the corridors for a while, until he had to admit that he was completely lost, and he would not even be able to find the original intersection. But admitting that did not help much, and so Link simply walked aimlessly through the Keep until he came upon a large double door which had been left slightly ajar. The familiar sounds of a sword cutting through air and a man panting heavily came from within, and Link tiptoed to the slit between doors and peeked inside.

The room was large and mostly empty, but three things stood out in the light of the numerous torches and lanterns that illuminated it: The massive chair at the one end of the room, the pedestal bearing a motionless body in the middle, and the young man exercising with a long sword at the other end. It took Link several seconds to figure out that the chair was the throne, the old man the deceased king, and the young man... well, who could possibly be bold enough to use the throne room as his own personal training grounds except the crown prince? The silver circlet on his head only made that conclusion more obvious.

Spying on the man who was now king in all but name was not exactly a virtuous thing to do, but Link still decided to watch the prince's sword dance for little while. He might even pick up a thing or two, given that his self-taught fighting style was not all that sophisticated and mainly consisted of keeping a tight defence combined with a regular stream of attacks.

However, after a minute of watching, it was not the prince's superior technique that impressed Link as much as the sheer force behind his blows that grew successively stronger as he strung strike after strike, culminating in a finishing move that looked like it could cleave an armoured man in two. The prince's tall frame was muscular and powerful, but his strength seemed greater than even his physique could explain.

_I'm glad he's on my side_, Link thought, then chuckled. _Or rather, I'm on his side._

To Link's surprise, his muted chuckle was enough to draw the prince's attention, even over the whooshing sounds of his sword. He froze in mid-swing, then pointed his blade at the door and loudly asked: "Who's there?"

_Great, just great. I have about three seconds to come up with a good excuse why I'm here._

Running away would cause a ruckus and only get him into trouble (or worse, if the prince thought he was an assassin), and so Link decided not to delay the inevitable and entered the throne room, making sure that his hands were far away from his sword so as not to cause any misunderstanding. The prince recognized Link's uniform as that of a Hylian soldier and immediately relaxed and lowered his sword.

"I told your captain, there is no need to guard the throne room during the night," the prince said, his breathing heavy after his exertion. "Or do you think anybody in this Keep would desecrate my father's body?" He narrowed his eyes. "Wait, you're not part of the regular watch. Do you have a message for me?"

Link thought about coming up with a sufficiently vague and unspecific message and make his exit quickly, but thought better of it; he would only contradict himself and arouse suspicions. Besides, the truth was so much simpler and more believable than any excuse he could make up on the spot.

"No, your highness, I just lost my way in the Keep. I'm not familiar with the layout yet. Then I heard sounds of your sword, and thought I should check it out."

"And did I do something funny?" the prince inquired. "Or why did you laugh?"

"Uh... no, your higness, nothing."

"You didn't like my style? You think I'm no good at fighting, is that it?" He looked sternly at Link, as though he was about to impose some ridiculous punishment on him, which in turn made Link stutter incomprehensibly. Then the prince's frown gave way to a slight smile.

"I jest. You look young; I take it this is your first time in the Keep?"

"Y-Yes, it is, your highness."

"Don't 'your highness' me every single sentence, it gets annoying. I am Prince Darion. And to fellow soldiers it's just 'Darion', at least in private."

"Yes, uh, Darion. I only joined the army a week ago."

The prince's familiarity was sudden, but not entirely unexpected. In his short time in the barracks, Link had heard his comrades speak about the prince who thought of himself as a soldier and often talked to his men, and therefore was well-liked and respected by them.

"Actually, I thought your technique was excellent," Link said and hoped that Darion would not mistake his honest praise for flattery.

"Oh no, I still... I mean..." The prince stopped in the middle of what sounded like a self-depreciating remark, then simply said: "Well, I suppose I had the best teachers."

At at loss for words that would keep the conversation going, Link let his gaze wander the throne room, and the dead body lying in state in the middle of the room caught his attention. Darion noticed it, too, for a shadow of grief momentarily covered his face.

"So you noticed. Yes, my father is dead. The announcement will be made tomorrow."

"I'm very sorry."

"Don't be. It was his time. Although there was still... but never mind that." Darion violently shook his head as if a painful thought was trying to intrude on his mind, and Link wondered for a moment what kind of regrets a prince might have.

_Perhaps there were things unsaid between the two of them? Oh well, it's none of my business._

"So," Darion cleared his throat, obviously trying to steer the conversation back to a more comfortable topic, "I take it your training has only recently begun?"

"Uh... you could say that," Link evaded his question, unsure whether he should tell him the prince that he was the one training others, not vice versa. "But I had some foreknowledge."

"Your father taught you?"

"No, he was just a farmer. I taught myself."

"Impressive. But there's only so much you can learn without a second blade to pit your own against." The prince gave Link an appraising look. "Let's spar."

"What? Here? Now?" _He can't be serious!_

"Of course, why not? There's enough space in this half of the room that we won't accidentally hit my father's body."

"Don't get me wrong," Link assured him, "it would be an honour, but we have no training blades here."

"That's not a problem. Just hold your sword like this," Darion turned his own blade sideways, "and you'll only hit me with the blunt side." He grinned. "If you can hit me, that is."

Link did not like that idea, but a small part of him wanted to see how well he fared against this well-trained opponent, and that part prevailed over reason.

_It's a request from the prince_, he told himself. _I can't say no. And he's much better than me, so there's no way I'd accidentally hurt him. And even if I do, he doesn't seem the type who would turn around and blame me._

"Then let's do it," he said and drew his sword. His right hand wandered to the shield slung around his back, but hesitated.

"Go ahead and use it," Darion encouraged him. "No point in handicapping yourself." In spite of his words, Link noticed that he held is own, two-handed sword in only one hand, but he chose not to comment on it. The two young men took positions ten steps apart and Darion bowed before Link, which caught him off guard. "Should you do that?" he asked as he bowed in return.

"Oh, that's all right," Darion said. "My first teacher taught me to do that before every training fight, no matter the status of my opponent. By the way, that's a nice sword you have there."

"So he also taught you to distract your opponent with compliments?"

"Ha! I was actually being serious. But very well, let's get started."

Still trying to overcome his inhibitions, Link wondered whether he should be the one to make the first move. After a second's hesitation, Darion made the decision for him, made a quick lunge and attacked. His strike was strong enough to almost make Link drop his shield on impact, and the force of the blow reverberated in his right arm.

_And he only used one arm. There's no way I can withstand this for long._

Link decided to attack Darion before he could wear him down, throwing all his weight into his strikes. His sudden aggressiveness startled the prince, but not for long, and he expertly parried every blow Link struck against him, and his swordarm did not so much as flinch. No matter whether he struck horizontally, vertically or diagonally, his opponent's sword was always there before Link's own blade, which recoiled as if he was trying to strike down a wall. Against a real enemy, he would have tried a quick jab above or below his defences, but not while sparring – he would not take the risk of stabbing Darion, no matter how small the chances.

"You've been in a real fight before," the prince stated over the dull clashing of their blades. "You don't overreach and you keep your shield where it's supposed to be. But you're not going all out. You're being conservative."

"That's a good thing if you want to stay alive," Link gasped.

"Maybe, but you're not moving fast enough," Darion criticized. "And you're not hitting hard enough."

With that, the prince went on the offensive, brutally beating on Link's shield like a smith on an anvil. Link barely managed a single counterattack, which Darion parried with so hard a strike that Link feared his sword would break; he dared no more attacks after that and slowly backed off while his opponent pounded his shield.

_There's no way I can beat him. I have to end this before he breaks my arms._

"I yield," he said loudly, but Darion must not have heard him, for he continued to drive Link back toward the middle of the room, still increasing the force of his strikes.

"I yield," Link repeated, shouting this time, but still no reaction. Darion's brown eyes were squarely focused on his opponent, but somehow, he did not see the increasingly anxious expression on his face.

_Why doesn't he stop? Is he trying to hurt me?_

"I YIELD!" Link screamed as loud as he could and dropped his already useless sword, holding his shield with both arms, but Darion did still not desist. Anxiety turned into fear, and Link considered turning tail and running, but in his blind furore, the prince might just break his spine, which he would rather avoid.

Suddenly Link's right leg bumped against a solid object, and the simultaneous impact of yet another fierce blow threw him off balance. He barely managed to turn on his side before he fell over backwards, hitting the carpeted floor with his shoulder instead the back of his head. He screamed out in pain and let go of his shield, and desperately tried to crawl backwards, now completely defenceless against Darion's onslaught.

But the blow that would have broken his ribs or limbs, assuming the prince was even using the blunt side of his sword anymore, did not come. Instead, he heard a thump and a second body hit the floor right next to him. After rolling over once, its gaunt face stared at Link with a ghastly rictus and lifeless eyes. Link shrieked, and was joined by Darion, who had frozen and now screamed in terror.

After a second, both of their screams stopped, and an eerie silence fell over the throne room. No longer in immediate danger, Link pulled himself up and tried to arrange the events in an order that made sense. Only after a few seconds did he realize that the prince's last strike had hit his father's body and swept it cleanly off its pedestal, and the resulting shock had finally put an end to his rampage.

_And not a moment to soon_, Link though sourly as he pulled himself up and tried not to look at the body sprawled on the carpet. _He was out of his mind! He could have crippled me or even killed me!_

Against his better judgement, Link did not simply flee the throne room without looking back, but walked up to the prince whose crazed stare was fixated on the empty wooden pedestal. He gently put his hands on Darion's right arm, slowly pulled his sword out of his hand and put in on the ground. Only now did he notice the golden mark on the back on his hand – three triangles forming a greater triangle.

_The Triforce! What does this mean? Is this a tattoo?_

Somehow, Link had the feeling that it was nothing so simple, but before he could ask Darion about it, he would have to wake him from his stupor, so he placed a hand on the prince's shoulder and whispered his name. Darion flinched and jerked around, shaking off Link's hand and grabbing his shoulder instead.

"Please forgive me! I... I..."

"It's all right, Darion," Link assured him, but he sharply shook his head.

"It's obviously not all right! I almost killed you... and father..." His gaze wandered to the dead body on the carpet, and his eyes widened.

"Please, will you help me? We have to put him back."

"Of course."

Still unsettled by Darion's reckless behaviour, and although his arms hurt immensely, Link helped him lift his father's body back on the pedestal, trying to make it look as though he had never been moved. After that, the prince quickly regained his composure

_At least nobody heard us scream. It's a good thing this place is so big, and the walls so thick._

Darion picked up Link's sword and shield and handed them back to him, and only then took up his own weapon and placed it in its scabbard. His brown hair stuck to his sweaty brow, and his eyes wandered nervously between Link, his father's body and the throne room's doors.

"I have no excuses to give you," Darion said, avoiding Link's gaze. "I acted as if this was a real fight – no, worse! Even in a real fight, you're supposed to stop once your enemy yields!" The prince wiped the sweat off his brow and gulped. "I have no idea what came over me."

_Me neither_, Link thought. _I don't think I was that threatening._

With a sudden frown, Darion raised his right hand and stared at the golden Triforce mark. "Perhaps it was because of this," he whispered. "Did I lose myself in its power?" He shook his head resolutely. "Nonsense! I was just on edge because of father's death!"

Link was not sure what the prince was talking about, but it seemed to relate to the Triforce in some manner. He wanted to ask him about it, but had no idea how to broach the subject, since he was not supposed to know anything about it, other than it was some kind of symbol of legend.

"There's no need to worry," Darion stated firmly and put his hands behind his back. "Something like this won't happen again." His tone told Link that he considered the matter closed, and he felt that he had just missed a rare opportunity.

"So, no hard feelings, I hope... uh, what's your name?" Darion asked.

"Link."

"I'm truly sorry, Link. My power is not of this world. It wasn't a fair fight."

_'Not of this world'? He must be talking about the Triforce!_

"It's all right," Link said. "There are no fair fights in life."

"That's true," Darion replied. "But this was training. It should have been fair. I just didn't know my power yet."

Link wanted to say something in reply, perhaps make an innocent remark about the Triforce mark, but he was seized by a sudden spell of weakness. His legs felt like they were about to give in, and before he knew it, he had grabbed Darion's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, too tired to grasp the extent of this impropriety. "I had a long day, and I didn't sleep much, and..."

"And this stupid duel didn't make things better," Darion said. "I understand. I shouldn't have suggested it."

"It's not your fault," Link said quickly. "But I have to get up early tomorrow. Or rather, today." Rather than staying and possibly giving his knowledge about the Triforce away, which would get Arnu into very big trouble, he decided to let the matter rest for the moment – who was he anyway, to dabble in such important and wide-reaching affairs? "I think I should go to bed," he said.

"You should do that," Darion said. "Good night, my friend."

Link performed an awkward bow and hurried out of the throne room and down the corridors, taking turns at random and somehow ending up at the Keep's entrance before he knew it. The guards who had seen him arrive with Thallius and Arnu recognized him and let him leave unhindered, and he set out for the barracks, brooding over what had happened in the throne room.

_An hour ago, I would have been beside myself if I had been called 'friend' by the prince... no, the king. Whatever. But now I'm not so sure. Someone with trouble to control himself may not be such a good friend to have..._

As he navigated the still unfamiliar alleys of Keeptown, illuminated only by the full moon's light, he pondered the golden triangles on the prince's hand, and the abnormal strength he had displayed.

_My power is not of this world,_ Darion had said. Did this have anything to do with the Triforce mark?

_I should forget about this_, Link thought, remembering Thallius' advice. _It's not like I'm going to meet him again. Or Arnu._

_I was involved in this purely by accident, but I'm still a commoner. I don't think I'll be involved with princes and wizards and magical artifacts again._

Link arrived at the barracks and entered the room where he and his unit had slept since joining the army. His men had not returned yet, probably still on their trek across Hyrule Field on foot, so he was alone. And even if they returned during the last hours of the night, he had given them tomorrow off, so they would not disturb him.

Link's limbs felt like they were about to fall off and attach themselves to somebody who would not subject them to the same abuse as Link had. He had not lied to Darion: He was dead tired, and what little sleep he had gotten on the way to Keeptown had not done him much good. He sank down on his uncomfortable bed, and before his thoughts could return to the strange prince or any of the other events of this excessively long day, he had fallen asleep.


	18. The Legend of Zelda

**Chapter 18: The Legend of Zelda**

Two days after the assassination attempt in Zora's Domain, Princess Zelda returned to Keeptown, accompanied by an armed escort sent by Malark after her father's death in the very same night that she had almost been killed. The way from Keeptown to Zora's Domain was one day's ride, and so she had had some time to come to terms with the terrible news the mounted soldiers had brought her.

_The cause of death was not yet determined when we left the Keep_, she remembered the soldier's words. _But murder is a possibility._

Zelda was not a person who cared much for revenge, because it could not bring back the dead and only created a vicious cycle of violence and more violence. Besides, her hothead of a brother was probably promising enough revenge for the both of them, and she hoped that the suspect who had been apprehended by Malark was still alive.

_The king of the desert tribe, come to Keeptown on my father's invitation. If there really is a conspiracy, then how is he involved? He has nothing to gain from killing father. This doesn't make any sense._

After entering Keeptown through the city gate, a small throng of citizens quickly gathered around Zelda and her escort, happy to see her returned. The reclusive princess could not hope to gather as much public affection as her brother, whose irreverence for differences of birth and standing made him very popular with the common folk, but there was still a small following of people whenever she left the Keep during the day.

Zelda's group slowed down their horses to a trot so as not to hurt anybody and slowly made their way toward the looming Keep. While some of the people the princess briefly spoke to mentioned her father's death, most of them did so without grief, and it became clear to her that his passing, natural or not, was not considered untimely by anyone.

_Of course not. He was almost seventy years old. They've already let go of him. Now I must do the same._

Zelda's group reached the stone wall of the Keep and passed through the main entrance, and the crowd quickly dispersed, knowing well that their domain ended at the massive gate. Zelda dismounted and wondered whether anyone was waiting to welcome her. She did not have to wait long, for her brother soon appeared from one of the arched passageways, followed by the ever black-robed Malark. Darion recognized Zelda, ran toward her and embraced his sister.

"Thank the Goddesses you're alive," he said with palpable relief. "When Malark told me about the conspiracy against you, I was so afraid to lose you, too. And when the Zora messenger told me about the attempt on your life..."

"It's too bad Malark didn't tell me about it." Zelda glanced sideways at the wizard while wriggling herself out of her brother's embrace. "And in the end, I was almost killed by the one whom you sent to protect me! What do you have to say about that?"

The old Sheikah opened his mouth, but Darion answered faster.

"We can talk about things like this later. For now, I'm just happy that you're alive."

"Not thanks to his efforts," Zelda said, but her words bounced off of Malark with no visible effect.

_What if he knew the bodyguard was actually an assassin?_ she wondered. _How can I find out?_

"Please don't argue," Darion said and positioned himself between Zelda and Malark. "I'll need both of your advice in the future."

_I must talk to Darion about Malark. But not while he's nearby, of course._

Zelda decided to pretend that nothing was wrong until she had a chance to talk to her brother alone. "Can I see father?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation into a different direction.

"No," Darion shook his head. "I'm sorry. I wanted to delay the burial until you arrived, but the priests were absolutely adamant that it be done the day after his death."

"I see." In truth, she had not wanted to see her father at all; she would rather remember him as a living man than a dead body.

_Maybe I should talk to Arnu first. I'm sure she has made her own observations over the last few days._

Zelda inquired as to her tutor's whereabouts, but Darion could only shrug.

"Oh, you know how Arnu is. I knocked at her door before I came here, because I knew you'd want to see her, but she didn't answer. She's probably busy with some experiment and put one of those silence bubbles around her."

_Typical. I'll just have to talk about something unconspicious, something that I was going to ask anyway._

"The messenger said that father may have been murdered, and that the suspect was in your custody. What's that all about?"

Darion furrowed his brow, and barely suppressed anger filled his voice.

"The desert rat somehow made his escape the very night after father's death. But I won't forget about him! One day, when things have settled down, I'll go after him and bring him to justice!" He raised his clenched fists as he spoke, and only now did Zelda notice the golden mark on the palm of his right hand.

"So you have-" _So you have the third piece_, she was going to say, but held her tongue. _I knew it! He went to the Triforce right after father's death, and somehow split it in three!_

"So I have what?" Darion asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. I was just startled because of that mark. It looks like the Triforce. Is this a tattoo or something?"

"Perhaps the princess was startled because she already saw this mark on somebody else?" Malark interjected.

_Curse him, he thinks quickly! How could he know? Was my reaction that obvious?_

"You don't mean to say..." Darion looked at the wizard.

"Don't ask me, your majesty. Ask her."

"Yes," he nodded. "Zelda! If you've seen this mark on another person, you must tell me who it is! We were going to look all over the realm for them, but now..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zelda said hurriedly, trying to sound natural. "By the way, did you go to the Triforce already?"

"Yes, I did, and that's why I need you to answer! It is imperative that we find the two people who bear the same mark as myself. Don't worry, no harm will come to them. In fact, they'll be richly rewarded."

"I thought you wanted to talk about 'things like this' later? What about our reuion?"

"Don't try to sidetrack me!" Darion barked. "This is more important than anything else!" He was getting angry, but she would not be intimidated by him.

"I've never seen anything like this before, I swear."

Darion frowned at her. "You've always been such a lousy liar. Why do you still not trust me?"

"What can I say to make you-"

"I wanted to make you a sage and one of my top advisors, but if you don't trust me... why have you even come back here?" Now he sounded bitter as well as angry.

"Darion, calm down, please"

"Don't talk down to me! You've met them at Zora's Domain, haven't you? And you told them to run away and hide in the corners of the earth so your easily corruptible brother wouldn't find them!"

Zelda was stupefied by how rapidly her brother was uncovering the truth, and had to throw him off his track at once. "Yes, you're right. They've already gone their separate ways, and are bound to leave Hyrule as we speak. You'll never find them." She did not want to sound so antagonistic, but that was the only way to prevent Darion from sending soldiers to Zora's Domain and perhaps start a terrible incident.

Zelda's words were not without an impact on Darion: His eyes hardened, and his voice was heavy with disappointment.

"So you truly never trusted your own brother."

"It's because you are my brother that I can't tell you! I couldn't live with myself if I helped you find the Triforce and you lost yourself in that power. I'm trying to protect you as much as everybody else."

"Don't patronize me! I'm stronger than you think! I don't need your protection!"

"I'm sorry, Darion. Maybe you'll understand someday."

Zelda averted her gaze, having nothing more to say to her brother who was blinded by the belief that power could change everything. She would have to get away from him as soon as possible and send a message to Zora's Domain, so they could at least send Kokron away. Narala was unlikely to give up her position, but the brave Goron would not hesitate if asked to live on the run and leave Hyrule forever. And as long as one piece was still not in Darions possession, he could not reunite the Triforce. He would hate Zelda for this, exile her, perhaps, but sacrificing her own status and position would be a small price to pay. Darion would eventually come around and grow comfortable in his ability to govern without the Triforce. He might never forgive her, but at least Hyrule would be safe.

_No matter how much it's going to hurt, I have to stay strong and mustn't say a word. Everything depends on me now._

"So you won't tell me where the Triforce Bearers went, and who they are," Darion stated coldly. "Is that your last word?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Then I'll make you tell!" he cried out, and his hand traveled to the hilt of the sword at his side, which made Zelda's blood run cold.

"You wouldn't dare!" she pleaded with a faint quivering in her voice. "Darion, what's happening to you?"

"I'm trying my best," he said between clenched teeth, "but everybody is making it more difficult for me. Even you! I don't want to hurt you, I really don't, but... I need the Triforce! Without it, I... I..." His voice trailed off.

"Generations of Hylian kings have governed without it! You can do it, too!"

"But I can't be just any king!" Darion shouted. "I have to change the world! Usher into a new age!"

"You're too ambitious for your own good. I won't tell you anything. If you really want to torture your own sister, go ahead." Zelda hoped that her voice sounded firm and confident, because her brother looked ready to lose control at any moment. His face was red and his veins were visible at his temples. Malark merely stood next to him, coolly observing the situation, of no mind to intervene. Zelda could certainly expect no help from him.

"I will do whatever is necessary!"

Darion's left hand shot out and seized Zelda's wrist. She shrieked and struggled to free herself, but his fist was like iron, and he dragged her to the closest wall and pressed her hand against it. Only then did he draw his sword and put its edge against her wrist. She stopped struggling and froze, staring at her brother as though he had just transformed into a monster before her eyes.

"If you value your hand, then talk," he coldly informed her. "And don't you dare lie to me, because I can tell!"

Zelda frantically tried to think of a way out of this, but she only drew blanks. Screaming? That might push Darion over the edge. Lying? She was so nervous and afraid, he truly would be able to tell. Magic? One of her hands was still free, but even if she could disarm him, he would probably mutilate her first, and besides, Malark was standing right next to them.

Zelda considered her options and discarded them all, then considered them again, her thoughts caught in a loop by abject terror and helpless pity. In his current state of mind, Darion was likely to interpret her silence as defiance, but that knowledge did not help her come up with something to say.

"You leave me no choice but to show you how serious I am," her brother whispered. "Perhaps you'll reconsider after your first hand goes."

His swordarm twitched, and the blade cut Zelda's skin, drawing blood. Darion made an incomprehensible noise, and his arm twitched again. He bit his lower lip and breathed deeply, then looked at Zelda's face, the anger in his eyes giving way to despair. He lowered his sword and closed his eyes, but did not release his hold on her.

"I can't do it," he whispered to himself. "You're my sister. I love you. But I have to... somehow..."

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief, although she knew that it was most likely premature. Still, she rejoiced that her brother was not lost yet, that he had not fallen so far as to brutally maim her.

He might still be able to have somebody else do it, however.

"Malark," Darion exhaled wearily, "I want you to make her talk. I know you can do this."

"It's a terrible order, your highness," the wizard answered, and even though Zelda trembled in fear at the thought of being subjected to whatever painful magics he had at his command, she had to admit that he sounded sincere. But if his conscience was so powerless that it had allowed him to stand by and watch Darion nearly cut her hand off without so much as breathing a word, he might as well not have one.

_He's been a servant for too long to speak out against his master._

"I won't blame you if you can't do it," Darion said. "How could I? But I ask that you try."

"I will, your highness. But oh, what terrible times we live in..." Malark buried his face in his hands. "Let's take the princess inside, if only for the sake of her dignity."

Darion nodded and forcefully dragged Zelda behind her through the nearest entrance with Malark in the rear, deaf to her pleas to get a hold of himself and let her go.

_Gods, what happened to him? Is this the Triforce's doing? Or some other influence?_

_Or maybe it is just him. Maybe my brother truly is a monster._

But she was not willing to accept that. Not yet.

Darion opened one of the many unmarked doors of the Keep and dragged Zelda into a medium-sized, windowless room filled with weapon racks full of swords, shields and halberds. There was nobody inside.

"Shall I restrain her?" he asked Malark as he followed them and closed the door, effectively turning the armoury into a prison or worse for Zelda.

"Please do. That will make things easier."

Darion's eyes scanned the shelves and racks until he found an enormous ball and chain that could not conceivably have been used as a weapon by even the strongest of soldiers. He effortlessly picked it up and tied Zelda's hands firmly with the chains, dragged her to the far wall, and put the heavy metall ball down, which prevented her from moving more than a few steps.

"I'll wait outside," he told Malark, "for as long as it takes. I can't watch."

The wizard nodded gravely, and Zelda watched her brother leave the armoury, his face no longer red, but deathly pale, his eyes unable to meet hers, looking to the ground instead. He closed the door behind her and left her alone with Malark.

"Princess," the wizard walked up to her and implored her, "I beg of you, see reason! Tell us where the Triforce Bearers have gone, and I'll promise you'll suffer no harm!"

"I told you I can't do that. Just get started."

With a flick of his hand, he summoned a field of silence that covered the whole room, and Zelda realized that no matter how much she screamed now, her brother would not hear her and put a stop to this. Malark moaned, looked her squarely in the eyes and whispered:

"You must know that in my decades of service to your family, this is the most difficult thing I've ever done."

Zelda almost pitied the old Sheikah, whose heartache sounded so real, so convincing, that she could no longer lend any credence to the theory that he was the mastermind behind the terrible things that had happened.

"How has it come to this?" he asked no one in particular, and Zelda decided to try and talk him out of it, even though she thought her chances were slim.

"You don't have to do this, Malark," she said gently. "You are my brother's servant, but not his slave."

"Of couse I'm not his slave!" the wizard suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs, covering Zelda's cheeks with his spittle, and his eyes glared with a hatred whose like Zelda had never seen. But as soon as the outbreak had started, it ended, and Malark once more put on the face of the tortured and reluctant servant with the same apparent ease as any other man would have donned a mask.

"Forgive my outburst," he said calmly. "What I wished to say was: You are right, I'm not his slave. But I feel bound to your brother by oath. I have to do this."

But Zelda refused to believe a single word of what Malark said. He had shown his true colours, and she only now realized the terrible implications of this: There had never been a conspiracy, only ever Malark. Only an old wizard who harboured terrible, yet carefully hidden hatred against her family, and perhaps all of her people, and had used his position to plot the downfall of everybody she held dear. He had killed her father. He had sent an assassin after her. And he had been the one to plant a terrible seed in Darion's heart. She knew all that now, with absolute certainty.

_But maybe he doesn't know that I know! Did I show surprise? Shock?_

_I probably did._

But she was still going to try to escape his clutches without giving herself away.

"You've convinced me, Malark," she said. "I'll tell everything I know. But only to my brother! Let me see him!" Of course she had no plan to actually tell him, now that Malark had shown his true colours, but she had to leave this room and escape the Keep.

"I'm afraid you would just tell him lies in order to buy yourself time, and in his condition, he might not be able to tell the lies from the truth. And time is a very precious commodity for us right now, because with every hour that passes by, your friends with the Triforce pieces will get further away."

"No! I must talk to him! Only he will understand! You must let me go!"

But pleading with Malark was useless. "Your brother wants quick results," the wizard said and walked to the centre of the room, "and I do not wish to pain you long, so I won't be holding back." He raised both of his arms, and spheres of yellow energy formed at his fingertips. Zelda braced herself, but still screamed out in agony when the lightning hit her and unbearable pain coursed through her body as if a thousand thousand needles pierced her flesh at the same time. Her legs started flailing and she collapsed as her body was contorted by uncontrollable spasms, and a red haze covered her eyes, reducing her world to a microcosm of pain.

Malark's spell lasted for mere seconds, but they were enough to almost unravel Zelda's mind. The lightning stopped, but the pain remained for several moments, as though her body could not believe that it was already over.

_But it isn't over. It has only just begun._

"Please princess, tell me where the Triforce Bearers have gone!" Malark's pleading voice reached her ears from afar. "I do not want to do this again!"

But Zelda knew she must not talk, not after seeing the old Sheikah for what he truly was. Whether Darion succumbed to the evil that lurked in his heart was no longer the crucial factor, because Malark would take the Triforce for himself as soon as he had the chance, and use it to pursue his twisted designs, whatever they might be.

"No," she gasped, amazed that she still could speak. "Never."

"As you wish," Malark sighed. "I will not ask again. When you are ready to talk, speak up."

He sent another wave of lighting at Zelda, which seemed to last longer than the first, and after a short break, a third one. She was unable to form a proper thought while the pain held her in its grip, but in between his attacks, the princess of Hyrule repeated one thought like a prayer:

_I can't give in, everything depends on me, can't give in, everything depends on me..._

Malark hit her a fourth time, and a fifth, and after that, Zelda stopped counting. Her own agonized screams started to sound unreal, as though they were coming from somebody else in the room, as though it was not her who was being tortured. She seized that thought and clung to it with all her strength, tried to distance her mind from her body as it was ravaged by Malark's magic.

Zelda could not tell how much time had passed when it finally ended. At first she thought it was just another short break, but the pain did not return again, and she dared to hope that her tormentor had given up. She wanted to wipe her tear-drenched face dry, but her hands were still tied by the heavy chain, and she had no strength to lift it up. The red haze before her eyes receded, and she was able to see Malark, still standing in the centre of the armoury turned torture chamber, staring at her in what might be disdain, or perhaps feigned pity.

"You are far stronger than I gave you credit for, princess. But I must not fail. Far too much rides on this. I need... your brother needs the Triforce."

He had slipped up again, but Zelda did not even bother to call him on it.

"I... won't talk," she said, and only Malark's reaction told her that her voice had actually been audible.

"Perhaps not now, but everybody has their limits. It's just a matter of time. Don't force me to repeat this for days, or weeks! How long do you think you can last?" He still did not drop the pretence of being as tortured as his victim. "I implore you, tell me, so I can stop this!"

"But you can't do this for weeks," Zelda whispered weakly. "You're working for my brother, or at least you have to keep appearances. He's not that far gone to have me tortured for weeks! He'll come see me, and he'll tell you to let me go."

"I'm afraid you speak the truth, princess," Malark admitted. "He would to that. Which is unfortunate for both of us, because it means I'll have to take extreme measures to make you talk here and now."

He raised his arms again, and magical energy surrounded his hands. This time, it was not yellow, but the deepest black. Zelda recognized the spell he was preparing, and her eyes widened in terror.

"Ah, so you know about it," Malark read her reaction correctly. "Arnu taught you, I presume, or perhaps you've read it in a book. Yes, you're right to open your eyes in fright. This spell is so terrible it was given a name: Mortys, the Agonizing Death! It will kill you, not instantly, but painfully. I will count to ten, and then I'll unleash it. Please, I beg of you, change your mind before that happens."

"My brother will kill you if you do that!" Zelda said, and knew that she spoke truth. Darion might be easily manipulated, but there was no way Malark could talk himself out of killing his sister.

"But you will die before me," he shouted. "Will you pay that price?"

"You're bluffing!"

"Don't put it to the test, I beg of you. You would not survive."

Zelda was chilled to the bones when she realized that Malark was being truthful for once: He had very nearly given up on getting any useful information out of her, and he was simply going to kill her and use other means to locate the Triforce.

"One."

But that also meant that he would have to kill Darion in order to save himself from his revenge. He had truly gone beyond the edge of reason.

"Two."

Even if she told him something – anything – now, Malark would still kill her, that much was certain, lest she tell her brother what she had seen in his eyes.

"Three."

The only way to try and save herself was magic, even if she did not have a prayer against the master wizard.

"Four."

But her hands were tied by chains of iron, and only very few spells could be cast without gestures, most of them obscure and unknown to her...

"Five."

_Hypnos! The Eternal Slumber!_

Of course! All that was needed for this ancient, yet powerful spell was eye contact, perfect focus and the shedding of a drop of the caster's blood.

"Six."

Hypnos was a rather obscure spell, perhaps because it could only be used by women. It was banned from use for all Hylian wizards, just like Mortys was, and Arnu had told Zelda that it had not been taught to anybody for decades.

"Seven."

But Zelda was by nature inquisitive, and had picked up the workings of the spell a few years ago while browsing a number of dusty tomes in the library that had been untouched for a century.

"Eight."

There was no time to think, only to act. Zelda bit down hard on her lower lip, and felt the warm moisture of blood. If Malark noticed it, he would consider it a mere sign of fear, or so she hoped.

"Nine."

She concentrated and pictured Malark lying before her, as the spell required it, sleeping forever. Before her mind's eye, all the components of the spell fell in place. She was ready.

"Ten."

With terrible finality in his voice, Malark launched the black sphere at Zelda, but the princess unleashed her own spell at the very same moment, and it traveled toward the wizard as a small orb of sickly-green light. The two magical projectiles collided in mid-air, and time seemed to stop for an instant as they bounced off each other and traveled toward their respective casters at high speed.

_Spell reflection!_ was all Zelda could think before her own magic hit her in the chest. When two magic spells of comparable potency collided, they were sent back against the ones who had cast them – a very rare and unlikely occasion, Arnu had once told her.

_If only I had been faster..._

The effects of the Hypnos spell was not instantaneous; in fact, it almost worked like ordinary sleep. Zelda's eyes grew heavy, and her thoughts slowed down. She looked before her and saw Malark crawling across the room toward the door, screaming as though he was being torn to pieces, suffering invisible death at the hands of his own spell. She almost pitied him, but she was just so... tired.

_I wonder whether I'll be dreaming..._

The field of silence imploded with a flicker, because Malark was no longer able to keep it up, so now his gurgling screams were surely audible in the corridor beyond. Seconds later, the door was opened by Darion, who must have been waiting patiently for results.

_Ah, Darion... at least I can see you... one last time..._

But her brother did not meet Zelda's gaze, did not even see her, for Malark drew his whole attention by grabbing his legs and trying to pull himself up. Darion instinctively seized his arms and helped him to his feet, and the dying wizard put his hands around the prince's face as his screams turned into a death rattle. The two men remained like this for a few seconds, and then Malark breathed his last and slumped down to the floor, while Darion was still in shock, reeling slightly, still not noticing his sister at the far wall.

_It's all right, _Zelda thought in the last moments before sleep overcame her. _You don't have to say goodbye. Just don't become like Malark. Don't fall to evil. Become a good king, like father. If you can do that... then everything will be... all right..._

Zelda's eyes fell shut, her mind went blank, and she was overcome by an eternal slumber that was very much like death.

* * *

Darion hated himself for lacking the courage to watch whatever it was that Malark was doing to his sister on his orders, but he knew that he would probably tell the wizard to stop if he knew the details. If he wanted to be a great king he would have to harden his heart to do that which was necessary, but for now, he was grateful that the old wizard was able to do it for him.

_And to think that I was looking forward to becoming king! This is already harder than anything I've ever done. But it is my burden, and I will carry it._

For a long while, not a sound came from the armoury, no doubt thanks to some magic shield thrown up by the Sheikah wizard to spare Darion the anguish of having to listen to his sister's cries. But when at last he heard a scream, after half an hour of waiting, he was surprised that it was Malark who was screaming. Had Zelda turned the tables on him somehow?

_Gods, he's screaming like he's being flayed alive! I have to check on them right now._

He pulled open the door and saw Malark right in front of him, crawling on the ground, screaming in agony. The wizard seized his legs and pleadingly looked upwards at the prince, obviously expecting help. Forgetting about Zelda for the moment, Darion dragged him to his feet and wondered what exactly was wrong with him.

Malark suddenly put his bony hands around Darion's temples and pressed hard, as if he wanted to crush the prince's skull, and even though the old man was physically weak, the sensation of cold fingers against his skin was unpleasant. His eyes glared like dying embers and bored into Darion's soul, and then everything went black for a few seconds and a terrible chill entered his head as though somebody had shoved an icicle through his eye socket. Darion groaned in pain, but the cold vanished as fast as it had come, and his sight returned quickly as well. He felt Malark's fingers let go of his head, and with a soft thump, the wizard collapsed to the ground, neither stirring nor screaming anymore.

_What happened here?_

The prince looked at the far wall of the room and saw that Zelda was still where he had chained her half an hour ago. Just like Malark, she was lying on the ground with her eyes closed, as if dead.

_No! It can't be! She's not dead!_

Clumsily stumbling over Malark's corpse, Darion rushed to his sister's side and gently shook her motionless body.

"Zelda? Zelda! Wake up! Say something! Please don't be dead!"

But the princess did not stir, nor did she open her eyes. Fighting back against the onset of panic and fully aware of his own inadequacy in this situation, Darion carefully put her back on the floor and rushed out of the room in order to get help. He recalled the Keep's layout and realized that Arnu's study was just two intersections away. The old woman was a sage, knowledgeable in magic as well as medicine – she would be able to help!

Darion raced to Arnu's study and threw himself against the heavy door. Less than an hour ago when he and Malark had passed by here to greet Zelda, it had been locked and nobody had answered his knocks. It was not locked now, and Darion found Arnu sitting in a massive armchair, absorbed in an equally massive tome. He dragged her to the armoury without explanation while ignoring her inquiries as to what the hell was going on, told her to ignore Malark for the moment (which she gladly did) and begged her to find out what was wrong with his sister.

"Calm down, your highness, she's still breathing. It looks like she's in a coma... what happened here? And what about Malark? And... wait." She closed her eyes and cocked her head sideways a few times, which under different circumstances might have looked silly.

"Powerful magic was used in this room. And I think... a death spell?" She looked at Darion, confused as well as angry. "Prince Darion, explain!"

"I asked Malark to question her about something... but I told him not to cause her any pain!"

That was a lie, of course, but Arnu did not have to know that he had ordered Zelda's torture, or she might become recalcitrant. If Malark was truly dead, taking the blame for Zelda's fate would be his last service rendered to the royal family.

_What am I thinking? He's not taking the blame, he _is _to blame! What came over him to use death spells?_

_No, that's just taking the easy way out. I should have been in here, watching. I should have told him to stop!_

"He certainly _did_ cause her pain. Just look at the poor girl, all drenched in sweat and tears. How could you condone this?"

"I didn't know he would... please, Arnu, not now! Save Zelda!"

"I have to concentrate! It's obviously a magical ailment, but I can't try to save her if I don't know which one." She closed her eyes again and walked through the room, accidentally stepping on Malark.

"I can trace multiple instances of a spell designed to inflict great pain, as well as a powerful death spell, all originating here. But that doesn't make sense! Malark wouldn't have cast a death spell at himself... wait, let me see..."

She knelt down in front of Malark's body and put a hand on his throat for several seconds.

"Bless my heart, he really is dead. I thought I wouldn't live to see the day."

"That's not funny! He was... I mean, he did... what does this all tell you?"

"It was his own death spell that killed him – a fitting end if there ever was one. And that means that his spell was somehow reflected, and that only happens in very specific situations. It would also mean that whatever Zelda is suffering from, she accidentally inflicted on herself."

Arnu walked back to Zelda and Darion, who was kneeling next to his unconscious sister, holding her still chained hands. She took another look at the princess, then paused and furrowed her brows.

"It couldn't be... but all the signs point to it. And since her hands were chained..."

"What is it? Do you know something?"

"Yes," the Sheikah sage said and gulped. "I wouldn't think it possible, but it's undeniable. She used a forbidden sleeping spell called Hypnos, and succumbed to it herself."

Relief came over Darion. "A sleeping spell, you say? That doesn't sound so bad. Just wake her, then!"

Arnu said nothing and looked at him with sadness and pity in her eyes, a look that Darion refused to acknowledge, for he knew its implications.

"I order you to wake her!" he repeated.

"I'm sorry," Arnu said firmly, "but there is no counterspell."

"What did you say?" he shouted. "Don't you dare say something like this!"

"Please compose yourself, Prince Darion, I'm feeling as miserable as you right now, but this is a very rare and powerful type of magic." She looked at Zelda, then at the prince again. "I'm afraid there is no counterspell. She may still be breathing, but for all intents and purposes, Princess Zelda is dead."

"No." Arnu was wrong, she had to be wrong. She did not know everything! "Get the other sages. If you can't fix this, they can!"

"No, they can't. Nobody can." She spoke with authority, and brooked no disagreement. Darion felt the world around him come apart at the seams. He collapsed over Zelda's sleeping body and sobbed.

"Oh by the gods, Arnu, this is all my fault!"

"I'm not saying you're blameless, Prince Darion, for that would be lying. But Malark was the one who forced her hand."

"But I'm the prince!" he howled. "I gave the order. I am responsible!"

"I can't stop you from torturing yourself if you really want to," Arnu said dryly. "But I advise against it."

"That's easy for you to say. But Zelda is... and Malark. He definitely is dead." Darion straightened up and looked at the corpse of the old wizard. "He always worked so hard... Why did he do this? Why did I make him do this?"

"I wouldn't waste too many tears on that one."

"But I forced him! He wanted to obey my orders... fulfill my expectations... that's why he threatened her with death! Maybe he was afraid of incurring my wrath if he returned empty-handed. As I said, it's all my fault!"

Arnu sighed and gently touched the prince's shoulder.

"Believe me, Malark was not afraid of anyone, and nobody has ever forced him to do anything he did not want to do. Save your tears for Zelda. She deserves them."

_Tears for Zelda. She's dead. Or as good as. No power in the world can... no power in the world..._

"The Triforce!" he exclaimed. "It can do anything! It can break this spell!" He remembered harbouring a very similar hope for his father, and that it had not quite worked out that way. The thought sobered him, but did not dissuade him. After all, he was going to search for the missing pieces anyway!

"Didn't you tell me yesterday that the Triforce had vacated the Sacred Realm?" Arnu inquired.

"Yes it did, but... I'll find it the pieces that have been lost! I know I will! Now I have even more reason to look for them!"

Arnu shook her head forcefully. "I agree that the power of the Triforce could most likely wake her. But you are being in denial right now! You have to prepare yourself for the worst. You may never find the pieces in your lifetime."

"But my lifetime doesn't matter! Only hers does! Tell me, how long can a person sleep in this manner?"

"Uh... I don't know exactly. But certainly longer than what their lifespan would have been. I know of a few victims that have been sleeping like this for centuries, and are still technically alive."

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Darion rejoiced and very nearly embraced Arnu. "Even if I don't find the Triforce, one of my successors will, I'm sure of it! And then he'll be able to wake her up!"

"Darion, please." Arnu looked at him like an adult would look at a child dreaming impossible dreams. "You're just trying to soothe your guilty conscience. You have to accept-"

"You're wrong! This isn't about me, it's about her. She has to live! I am to blame for her fate, and I must set things right. So even if it takes longer than my lifetime, or longer than a century... I must see to it that she'll be awakened!" He jumped to his feet and paced through the room. "First, I'll have to hide her in a safe place, so nothing will happen to her over the years."

"That which is hidden away is also easily forgotten," Arnu pointed out, "so don't get your hopes up. The day may come when the Triforce is re-assembled, and nobody even remembers her."

"They will remember my sister! They will remember Zelda, because I will forcethem to remember!"

"How would you do that?" Arnu asked gently, as if she was talking to a rambling fool who must not be disagreed with. It was condescending, but Darion did not care right now. He knew exactly what to do.

"Her story will not be forgotten. Her name will not be forgotten." He took a deep breath. "I hereby decree that from this day forth, every single female child born into the royal family shall bear the name Zelda!"

"That might lead to... confusion," Arnu said bluntly.

"That's the point!" Did she not understand his thoughts? Did she not realize what he was trying to do? "Every time a newborn princess is named, they will remember my sister. Even if it takes a millennium, and even if they have stopped believing the story altogether, they will still remember the legend of Zelda!"

"The legend of Zelda." Arnu cocked her head. "That has a nice ring to it."

"They will remember it!" Darion repeated. "And when the time comes and somebody brings the Triforce together, she will still be there, and she'll have back the life that her foolish brother took away from her." He closed his eyes and exhaled, exhausted by his own announcement.

"But I'm getting carried away. Don't worry, Arnu. All of that is just a precaution in case I die before saving her. I swear to you that I'll do anything in my power to find the Triforce pieces while I'm alive, so that the legend of Zelda will be remembered with a different ending. A happy ending!"

Arnu frowned at him, clearly not convinced. "I don't believe in happy endings. But you should also not forget the welfare of your people over all this."

"But that's the beauty of it! Finding the Triforce will save Zelda _and_ serve my people!"

"Well, I can't disagree with that."

"I will double... no, triple the reward for the Triforce Bearers if they come to me!"

"Bankrupting the kingdom won't help the people much."

"You're being awfully sarcastic today, Arnu," Darion said, "even by your standards."

"That's just my way to deal with the grief," she replied earnestly. "I'm an old woman who has seen most of her loved ones die during her lifetime. I don't cry anymore, I make nasty remarks."

"I guess that's one way to deal with it," Darion said and wiped away his tears. Nothing had gone right in the past seven days, but his reign would last many decades. There was still lots of time left to set things right.

Then he looked at the sleeping body of his sister, and his elation almost vanished again.

"Zelda must be sent away," he said. "She can't remain in the Keep. Or else, every day I would be tempted to come and see her, and despair."

"Where should we send her, then?" Arnu asked. "It must be someplace safe."

"To the North Garrison," Darion said immediately. "With the Triforce gone, the soldiers there have nothing to do, anyway. How better to renew their purpose than to have them guard my sister?"

Arnu nodded. "It's not exactly a long-term solution, but it'll work out for a while." She gently picked up Zelda's lifeless body with surprising ease and walked toward the door. "I'll make the arrangements. As for you, please try to get some rest. You've been through a lot in the past few days." She passed through the door frame, turned a corner, and was gone, and Zelda with her.

Darion appreciated her concern, but there was no way he could rest now. For some strange reason, his sister's terrible fate had revitalized him and granted him new strength and enthusiasm. Perhaps because he was now the only remaining adult in the royal family and could not afford to neglect his manifold responsibilities due to simple grief.

_Or perhaps it's because of Malark's death_, he thought sourly. _Perhaps his influence on me wasn't as beneficial as I thought._

He walked over to the old Sheikah's corpse in order to take one last look at him before he arranged for his funeral. With his gaunt face contorted to a terrible, painful grimace, his black robes and his now lifeless eyes, he almost looked like Death itself.

_Maybe it's a good thing that he finally left the stage. For him, and for all of us._

_"Just what makes you think I left?"_

Darion shrieked and recoiled away from the corpse. That voice had been Malark's! But he was dead... and the body had not moved, not even its lips!

_"I'm not in there anymore,"_ the familiar voice sounded from somewhere nearby. _"I'm now in here. In your head."_

Darion fell to his knees and clutched his head.

_This is impossible! Malark is dead! Dead!_

But the voice in his head merely laughed at Darion's horror, a malicious laughter that echoed in his mind where only the voice of his own thoughts should ever resound.

_"I haven't left the stage at all. I simply changed costumes. Now, the drama can really begin."_


	19. A Ghoul in the Nursery

Act II of III

**Chapter 19: A Ghoul in the Nursery**

In the north-east corner of the Keep's courtyard, there was a large crypt that housed the members of the royal family, reaching all the way back to the legendary founder of the kingdom, Queen Hylia. It was surrounded by a small number of graves wherein their most loyal servants were put to rest. Over the centuries, only few retainers had enjoyed this privilege, and so there were no more than a dozen graves there. One of them was still fresh, having been filled mere days ago, and was just now in the process of being defiled by two figures cloaked in white that almost looked like ghosts that had somehow been ejected from their grave and were trying to get back inside.

"I guess it's a good thing after all that the Hylians bury their dead," Koume whispered to her sister. "If he had been burned, there would be no way for us to verify his death."

"Shut up and dig harder," Kotake snubbed her and pushed her spade into the soft earth of the grave, bringing up yet another shovelful of soil. "I'm beginning to suspect that he isn't in here at all. How deep do these graves go?"

"Who can say what their strange religious customs prescribe? We just have to keep digging."

"That's my line. I just wish we could have picked up the news of his death earlier and verified it before they buried him beneath two metric tons of – wait, I think I've hit something solid!"

The sisters dug with renewed drive, and after ten more minutes, they had uncovered one of those unassuming wooden boxes the Hylians called 'coffins' and heaved it out of the hole they had dug. The lid was nailed shut tightly, a safety measure for which there was really no good reason, Kotake reflected, except perhaps the superstitious fear that the corpse inside might stir again and leave his eternal resting place to haunt the living. She grabbed a pair of pincers – the sisters had plundered a tool closet in preparation for this exhumation – and began pulling out the nails, and motioned her sisters to join her. Koume's enthusiasm, however, had notably decreased after finding the wooden box, for her eyes shifted back and forth across the lid, and she twiddled her thumbs as though she had nothing better to do.

"This is totally creepy," she whispered. "Are you sure we should do this?"

"Garanth told us to bring him Malark's head," Kotake replied, "and that's what we're going to do."

"But that was a figure of speech!" her sister protested.

"Perhaps, but if we bring him definite proof that Malark is dead, he can't weasel his way out of rewarding us."

"Rewarding? With what? Dried dates? They're not exactly living in luxury at the oasis."

"It'll be enough if he owes us a favour. And besides," Kotake added, "wasn't it you who talked me into this? So shut up and help me. Why did they put so many nails in this thing, anyway?"

Koume sighed and joined her sister, and with their combined efforts, it did not take them long to loosen the lid from the coffin. Kotake dragged it open and peeked inside, while her squeamish sister preferred to study the purple flowers that had been put on the grave.

"It's him all right," she said after she recognized the pale face which was still framed in a black hood. She opened his eyes to identify the red pupils, just to make sure it was no imposter. Not that there would have been no reason for that; after all, nobody in the Keep knew about the two Gerudo assassins who had been hiding away in an empty room below a tower's roof for five exceedingly boring days now.

_Would-be assassins,_ she corrected herself. _Too bad we didn't get to kill him. Oh well, at least this way he couldn't put a curse on us or anything like that._

"He looks exactly like when he was alive," she mused, "all pale and gaunt like a skeleton. Maybe we should poke him to make sure he isn't a ReDead."

"That's not funny," Koume said from the sidelines, still not ready to look at the dead body.

"But I'm serious," Kotake mocked her. "They say that ReDeads are awakened by wizards, so maybe this one took a little precaution against his own death, eh?"

"That's not possible. Dead is dead."

"Well in that case, there's nothing to be afraid of. Take a look, you wimp."

Koume made a squeaking noise like a desert mouse, turned around and looked into the opened coffin. She did not flinch at the sight and actually let out a long-drawn breath.

"It's really not that bad," she admitted. "He really doesn't look any different. Except for his face. Looks like his death was painful."

"Killed by his own spell that somehow backfired on him," Kotake remembered the conversation between two guards that they had overheard the day before. "A pathetic end." She touched the corpse's cheek (which _did_ make her sister flinch) and found it appropriately cold. "Now help me get him out of there."

Koume nodded and reluctantly seized the dead man's ankles, while Kotake lifted his shoulders, and together, they put Malark's corpse down in the grass next to the sizable mound of soil they had banked up. Not cherishing the illusion that her sister would be able to cut off the dead wizard's head, Kotake grabbed the saw they had taken with them for this purpose. As expected, Koume quickly turned around again and covered her ears, but before Kotake had even started sawing, a loud voice from the darkness made her freeze.

"Who are you? What are you doing there?"

After a second's hesitation, she dropped the saw, rose, and turned around, her hands touching the grips of her sabres. Koume followed suit, but not without some delay, and the sisters looked into the direction from where the voice had come.

_This is great, as usual,_ Kotake griped wordlessly. _Who is this? I doubt it's a grieving relative. His voice did not sound afraid... and didn't I hear it somewhere before?_

"I will not ask a third time: Who are you?" the voice came again, and Kotake was finally able to discern the shape from which it originated, striding toward them from the far side of the courtyard.

"Let's run for it," Koume said under her breath. "We don't need that stinking head."

"We didn't do all that digging for nothing!" Kotake protested. "We'll just kill that guy – fine, knock him out – and be on our way. With the head."

"He doesn't look like someone we can knock out easily."  
It was true, Kotake saw: The man, who was now only a few steps away from the two Gerudo, was taller than either of the already tall women, and had a muscular build and confident poise. And he held a long sword in his right hand.

"Why don't you tell us your name first?" Kotake asked him, keeping her voice low. She did not want to alert the whole Keep to this nocturnal escapade, if it was not too late already. She did not expect an answer, but she already could not stand the young man who walked around and yelled through the night like he owned the place.

Her bold question clearly did not impress him, for he bellowed a laugh as he came to a stop in front of them, just out of reach of their weapons. Only now his face became visible, and Kotake's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the silver circlet and the brown hair crowning the young man's symmetrical features.

"You're that prince!"

"And you are blasphemous ghouls, digging up the dead for some vile purpose," he replied, not trying to hide the contempt in his voice. "And I don't even want to know what it is. Surrender, and you may be spared the gallows."

"Oh, cut it out with the bravado already! Why don't you surrender? It's two against one!"

"I don't think Garanth would want us to fight him," her sisters reminded Kotake, but she ignored those feeble words. "Why are you sneaking around in the dark like some creep?" she demanded. "That's not very kingly."

"I don't answer to you, defiler," Darion spat, and lifted his head in order to look at the corpse. "Just what poor soul did you – what? Malark? You dug up _Malark_?"

"Any problems with that?"

"Well, uh..." He hesitated, staying silent for a few seconds. "Actually, it seems he doesn't mind. He even finds it amusing."

Kotake did not even try to fathom how Darion was supposed to know that, nor why he was talking about the dead in the present tense.

"So you have no reason to be mad at us, right?" Koume asked eagerly.

_Of course. Always the first with the peaceful solutions._

"I'm madder at him than at you," the prince said, but still pointed his sword at them. "Though that doesn't say much."

"What do you mean?" Koume asked, but Darion ignored her. "Hey, Malark," he said instead, "shut up for a minute and tell me if these two ghouls are your servants. Did you tell them to dig up your corpse so your mind could get back inside? In that case, you're welcome to leave. Just get out of my head, damn you!"

At first, Kotake thought the prince was addressing the corpse, and concluded that he must have gone insane since she had last seen him mere days ago. But his inward stare as he talked, and the cocking of his head as though he was listening to an answer made her realize that he was talking to himself.

_Which would still make him insane. Perhaps a little bit less, though. Hearing voices is probably more common than talking to the dead._

"What do you mean, it can't be done?" Darion flared up, obviously not satisfied by what _the voices _were telling him, but still keeping an eye on the sisters and his menacing sword pointed at them. They probably still would have been able to make a break for it, but Kotake found the mad prince's behaviour morbidly fascinating, and her sister was not going to take the initiative either way.

"I know that you said that before, but your presence is driving me crazier with every passing day. No, I'm not going to get used to it! This is my mind! Get out!"

The prince seemed to realize the sisters astonished gazes, and seemed to feel the need to explain himself, for he said:

"I am haunted by a ghost. And I wish to send it back to the grave where it belongs."

"Well, don't let us keep you," Kotake replied and spontaneously decided that the stupid head might not be worth it after all. "We were leaving anyway."

"Not so fast!" Darion barked. "Malark told me that you're not his servants, so, for the last time... who are you?"

Kotake decided to go with the truth. Not that it mattered, really.

"We are Gerudo who have been asked to kill this Malark character because our hopeless king thought he was a bad influence on you. Although, given that you have completely lost it only three days after his death, it seems Garanth was wrong, as usual, and the old guy was the only one keeping you sane. Anyway, there you have it. Satisfied?"

But the prince had not listened to anything but her first three words.

"You are Gerudo," he whispered. "Of course. You have the look, under your cloaks. That means you are the ones who freed my father's murderer? Maybe you even helped him!" He was yelling now, and even Kotake found herself somewhat intimidated. "I'm going to cut you down where you stand, and toss you into the grave you dug for yourself!"

Darion threw himself at the sisters like a man possessed, swinging his sword in dangerously wide arcs so he could hit them both at the same time. A less skilled fighter might have lost his balance, but the mad prince did not. He became a whirlwind of forged iron that bore upon Kotake and her sister, who could barely fend off his powerful strikes and were forced to back off quickly. Jumping backwards, Kotake almost fell into Malark's open grave and was only saved by Koume's warning cry.

She had no time to be embarrassed about her clumsiness, for the prince of Hyrule was relentless in his assault, and Kotake's belief in their superior fighting skills all but vanished within seconds. He had pushed himself between the two sisters, which should have been an extremely unfavourable position, but Darion somehow made it work to his advantage, keeping the twins who were used to fight at each others' side apart. He never focused on either of them long enough to give the other the opportunity to strike at his back, and his spinning blade served him well in keeping his enemies at a distance. He was unlikely to get a killing blow like this, but neither were his opponents, who were focused on staying alive, unable to even think about going on the offensive.

_He can't keep this up for long! He has to get tired!_

But the prince showed no sign of getting tired, or even breaking a sweat, even though he was exerting much stronger force than the Gerudo sisters, who simply defended against his blows. Although he looked younger than them, Darion was clearly capable of cutting them both down if they made even the slightest mistake.

"This isn't working!" she heard Koume shout after parrying a particularly brutal strike. "The noise is going to alert the guards!"

Her sister was right, Kotake knew. Although the prince was surprisingly silent in his assaults, never once shouting or saying anything at all, the sound of metal clashing against metal in the middle of the night simply had to wake many of the Keep's inhabitants, and they were barely holding their ground against one of them.

"We break away and run!" she shouted back, and ducked below one of Darion's blows that almost decapitated her. She did not like that idea very much, but it was the only way to ensure that at least one of them would make it out alive.

"No way!" Koume yelled, predictably opposed to the twins splitting, but Kotake would brook no objection in these dire straits.

"We run in opposite directions and meet up later!"

The next time Darion was in mid-spin, Kotake turned on the spot and dashed away, praying just this once to whatever deity that might listen that Koume would do the same thing and not try and take on the mad prince alone. Then she heard the sound of heavy boots behind her and realized that she was the one being pursued by Darion, not her sister.

_Just try to catch me, little prince,_ she thought to herself as she threw open a door leading into the Keep's main wing and raced along the torchlit corridors with no clear destination in mind; except that she was not going to lead him to their hideout below the roof. _You may be stronger, but I bet that I'm faster._

Very soon, she came to regret that cocky thought, because a quick look back over her shoulder told Kotake that Darion was gaining on her. He had a merciless and somewhat annoyed look in his eyes, like an executioner whose victim had decided to struggle against his chains at the very last second before the axe fell.

A corner came up at the end of the corridor, and Kotake realized in a sudden onset of horror that she would have to slow down in order to make the turn. But slowing down was not something she could do at this particular moment in time, because Darion would simply run her over before finishing her off. She was about to panic, and her mind demanded that she do something, anything, to save her life or at least buy herself a few additional seconds.

The idea occurred to her without thinking, and just before reaching the corner, she threw herself against the last door on the corridor's left side, hoping for a window that would lead her back into the courtyard. The door was not locked and gave way as Kotake's shoulder hit it..She lost her balance because of her high speed, and half fell, half rolled into the spacious room, almost cutting off one of her own hands with her sabres.

Unfortunately for her, Darion reacted faster than she had expected: Instead of racing past the door and giving her the opportunity to slip back into the corridor and strike at him from behind, he somehow managed to come to a stop just in front of the door, waving his arms for a second to maintain his balance. That second was enough for Kotake to rise to her feet and realize that the room was not only windowless, but also populated by at least two people, a middle-aged woman playing a song on a musical instrument and a baby lying in a cradle, either sleeping or about to fall asleep.

_Damn it! Why isn't there a window or another door? He's coming! Quick now!_

Desperate for a way out of her life-threatening situation, Kotake dashed toward the stupefied woman, She roughly pushed her away from the cradle, causing her to fall and let go of the instrument, and put one of her sabres to the baby's throat while holding the other toward the door and Darion.

"Don't move!" she shouted, "or this child dies!"

For the first time in this accursed night, things went as expected, and the prince froze in mid-movement, his eyes suddenly wide in shock and fear. The woman, who looked to old to be the mother and probably was a nursemaid, slowly crawled backwards, away from the intruder, having enough self-control not to scream or make any sudden movements.

_It's not like I enjoy doing this, _Kotake thought, and withdrew her sabre a small distance as the baby began stirring and, as babies are wont to do, crying. _But you're leaving me without a choice. Now I have to look like I mean it. I must be ready to kill the child. If he sees the slightest hesitation, he will attack._

But Darion was not ready to gamble on the child's life on the hope that Kotake was bluffing. He put his sword to the ground, completely disregarding his own safety (which surprised Kotake to no end), and raised his empty palms.

"Don't hurt him," he pleaded, and his tone had changed dramatically from before, going from completely self-assured and dominant to utterly helpless.

"Don't hurt my brother," he repeated. "He's all I have left. Please... I... you..." Darion gulped, struggling against the words, and ultimately losing. "I let you go if you don't hurt him."

The situation was extremely delicate. Kotake judged Darion's concern as genuine, but she was also sure that the second she put some distance between herself and the baby, the desperate brother would again make way for the man who wished to see her ead. She would not make the mistake of trusting him.

"Come in here," she said, "and stand in the far corner over there, so you can't block the door."

Darion nodded and obeyed, eyeing her with fear and mistrust.

"You, too," Kotake gestured at the nursemaid. The woman was unlikely to offer any resistance, but even the slightest distraction might prove fatal. She silently got up and joined her prince in the corner, leaving Kotake alone with the baby..

"Now leave!" Darion demanded. "And let Kyrus be."

Kotake sheathed her sabres and grabbed the wailing baby. "You're not in a position to demand anything. I'll take him with me until I'm sure I'm not being followed."

"No!" Darion shouted and looked about to lunge toward her, sword or no sword, but Kotake quickly lifted the baby above her head.

"Make no mistake," she growled, "I will break his neck if you make a move. Stay here and count to sixty. I'll put him down in the corridor somewhere, and you can pick him up."

Darion opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, since it seemed clear that she was not negotiating. He gulped and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Very well. But if you hurt him, I swear to you I'll hunt you down and-"

"Yes, whatever," Kotake cut him off, wholly uninterested in his angry and no doubt verbose threats. "You can start counting now. If I see any signs of pursuit before a minute has passed, he dies." She pursed her lips in mockery. "It's in your hands, your highness."

Darion clenched his fists and ground his teeth, but he did not make a move. Kotake decided not to further test his self-control and walked backwards toward the door, keeping a close eye on the prince. After a few steps, her right foot stepped on a small object lying on the floor, and she quickly withdrew her foot before she could trip over it. A short gaze told her that it was the small, blue music instrument the nursemaid had used to play the baby prince a lullaby.

"Be careful!" the woman urged her from across the room. "That's the greatest treasure of the royal family!"

"My brother's life is our greatest treasure!" Darion barked and forcefully slapped her in the face, sending her covering to the floor. Kotake snorted in disgust at this pathetic display of violence against a defenceless woman, picked up the the instrument and stored it in a pocket beneath her white cloak. "Treasure sounds good, in my book," she said nonchalantly. At least like this, they were going to take _something_ away from this stupid mission Garanth had given them.

_Now I just have to meet up with Koume and get out of the Keep and this town as fast as possible._

She backed out of the room, and, upon reaching the corridor, started running back the way she had come, holding the baby firmly in her arms. It was still crying and screaming incessantly, and Kotake considered it a minor miracle that she had still not met anybody.

_People in this Keep must sleep very soundly,_ she thought as she reached the door leading back into the courtyard. She decided to put the baby down on the threshold, regardless of whether a minute had passed (in truth, she had not counted the seconds herself), unwilling to burden herself with the annoying screaming bundle anymore.

_I hope lightning strikes me down if I ever consider having a child._

Pausing for a moment, pressed against one of the Keep's outer walls, Kotake realized that the north tower, where she and her sister had been hiding during the last two days and where Koume was presumably waiting for her was in the opposite direction. Returning the way she had come was impossible, of course – it would be tantamount to throwing herself on Darion's sword. She decided to climb the wall and walk along the battlement all the way back to the tower; that way, she would enter the spiral staircase at its midway point and bypass any guards that might patrol the ground level.

Unfortunately, she had failed to take the possibility into account that there might also be guards stationed on the battlement itself, and, with her accursed luck, pulled herself up the wall right next to a bearded soldier who was idly watching the roofs of the town. The man was as startled as she was, which did not stop him from drawing his sword and sending a badly-aimed slash in her general direction. Kotake had no way of dodging without losing her balance and plummeting down the wall back into the courtyard, and so the blade cut deeply into her left thigh. She screamed in pain, unable to keep her voice down, and instinctively launched herself forward, toward her attacker, and although the man was heavier than her, the momentum of her impact sent him over the edge of the battlement down the Keep's outer wall where he hit the ground with a dull thud. The entire fight, if it could even be called a fight, had not lasted more than three seconds.

Kotake grit her teeth and inspected the wound, which was bleeding heavily and hurt worse than anything she had ever experienced before. It extended across her entire thigh and hurt like nothing in her life had ever hurt before, but not enough to make her lie down and die. She pressed the split flesh together, which added another note to the symphony of pain droning in her head, and looked over the wall to the soldier down below. He had hit the ground head-first, and at this height, his helmet could not possibly have saved him. He looked very much dead.

_That's the least he deserves for what he did to me, damn Hylian swine._

_But what am I going to do now? It's not like I can see a doctor. Ahh, damn, I never knew anything could hurt like this!_

She briefly – very briefly – considered surrendering herself to Darion, in the hope that he would have the wound treated, but dismissed that course of action as naive in the extreme. Right now, the only thing she could do was make her way back to the tower, where the only trustworthy person in the entire Keep was hopefully waiting for her. Koume would have to do something. Anything.

Kotake moaned and took a cautious step, but the moment she put her weight on her bad leg, a lightning bolt of pain struck in her head and she collapsed immediately, very nearly joining the soldier down below.

_Fine,_ she thought after the pain had receded to bearable levels. _If I can't walk, I'll crawl. It's not like I have any pride left, after taking a toddler as hostage._

Before setting out on the long, painful way back to the north tower, Kotake tore her white cloak into strips and applied a thick bandage to her wound, so as not to leave a trail of blood leading to the Gerudo twins' hideout (and so as not to bleed to death, naturally). Satisfied that, even if the soldier was found, the Hylians would be unable to trace her movements, provided she renewed the bandage as it became blood-soaked, Kotake began crawling. Even that proved extremely painful, and she had to bite down hard several times on her arm, or she would have started screaming and howling at the waning moon, alerting the entire garrison to her presence.

Kotake did not know how long it took her to circle around the Keep on the battlement when she finally reached the north tower and began dragging herself up the stairs to the empty room below the roof. She had not encountered another Hylian soldier on her way, and would not have been able to lift a finger against him even if she had.

_Am I supposed to be grateful for that? Damn it all. Damn them all. This was _so_ not necessary._

She reached the door to the hideout, but found that she did not have the strength to get up, not even to reach up to the handle. Coughing and moaning and trying not to wonder what the black spots at the corners of her eyes meant, she weakly banged against the door with her fists. She did not have to wait long, for Koume, who must have arrived long before her, opened the door almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for her sisters (which she probably had). Kotake wanted to berate her for not being more careful – she could have been a Hylian soldier, after all – but could only utter almost inaudible noises. Koume looked at her with shock and concern, but quickly collected herself and helped her sister into the room.

"What happened to you?" she asked after trying to make her as comfortable as possible, propping up Kotake's head with a makeshift pillow made from her own cloak. "And what are we going to do now?"

_You have to decide that,_ Kotake wanted to reply, but before she could find the strength to say the words, everything went black.


	20. Tipping the Scale

**Chapter 20: Tipping the Scale**

Three days had passed since Zelda's departure from Zora's Domain; three days without any word from the princess. On the evening of the third day, tensions had risen between Kokron and his hostess Narala about how they should react to this disconcerting silence. Narala had advocated patience, while Kokron had grown increasingly agitated. He had regretting that he had not insisted to accompany Zelda and safeguard her against potential threats. But the Zora Queen had refused to take what she called "precipitous action," and it was only when Kokron reminded her of Zelda's promise to send a written message every day that she grudgingly agreed to his proposal to go after her and ensure that she was safe. Of course he could have left without her approval, but he would rather not put off one of his few allies in this strange affair if it could be avoided.

Repeatedly stressing the need for discretion, the queen had seen him off the next morning, and after several hours of high-speed rolling, Kokron was approaching Keeptown, situated in the very centre of the grassy expanses that was Hyrule Field. He decided to walk the rest of the way once he was half a mile away, because a dangerous collision with a Hylian citizen (dangerous for him, not for Kokron) would have gone against the whole idea of discretion.

It was Kokron's first visit to a Hylian town, although he had often gazed down to Kakariko Village from the peak of Death Mountain; but the secretive Sheikah inhabitants were wary of outsiders, and so he had never had the opportunity to inspect Hylian architecture up and close.

_Amazing how people can live like this,_ he marveled as he beheld the hundreds, if not thousands of wooden structures that made up the Hylian capital, huddled around the massive stone fortress in the centre of the city after which the town had been named. _These homes look so fragile, a storm or fire could easily wipe out the entire town except the Keep. _

_Then again,_ he thought, fondly recalling the massive network of caverns and tunnels below Death Mountain that constituted Goron City,_ I guess there aren't enough caves for everybody, so they have to make do with what they can build._

Kokron entered the outskirts of town and decided to head straight for the Keep, where Zelda most likely had gone in order to see her brother, and where he would finde her, provided she was unharmed.

_And she better be. If that prince harmed her, I may cause a diplomatic incident._

Although Kokron did not know Zelda very well, and the princess had not been exactly trusting toward him during their only meeting, the thought of her coming to harm bothered him greatly. Perhaps that was because he had once saved her life risking his own, and he did not want that heroic deed to go to waste.

_Now would be a good time to make a plan,_ he thought as he slowly strode through the narrow streets that grew busier the closer he came to the Keep. _They won't let just anyone see the princess. Maybe I could pretend I'm a diplomat? That's actually true, in a sense._

Kokron's planning was interrupted when he realized that people were gawking and pointing at him. Gorons were probably not a common sight in town, so he was not much bothered by it. The onlookers were curious, not malicious, and kept a respectful distance to the no doubt imposing visitor. In fact, one might say that Kokron relished the attention that was given to him, as vanity was one of his few weaknesses.

He considered stopping for a while and telling people about his epic exploits, especially his defeat of the dragon Volvagia – which was really the only one of his exploits that might be called epic, except for the current Triforce affair, which he had to keep silent about. Dutifully remembering the princess that was still unaccounted for, Kokron decided to postpone the boasting and to focus on his mission first. After he had made sure Zelda was safe and sound, he could still tour the town's inns and let interested Hylians know about his exploits.

"Look at his hand!" a loud male voice suddenly sounded from the crowd. "It's the Triforce mark!"

Reacting to the man's words, several Hylians abandoned the respectful distance between themselves and the Goron and curiously inspected Kokron's right hand, and they quickly confirmed the first caller's assessment. The people on both sides of the street began to murmur, and a crowd quickly assembled around him, preventing him from continuing on his way. Kokron had not expected a reaction like this. Since it was not unusual for his kind to wear tribal markings on their skin, he had not bothered to hide the Triforce mark on the back on his right hand, which might now prove to be a mistake – or an unexpected boon, depending on how much the common people knew about it.

_They shouldn't know about it all,_ he thought. _Zelda said that the existence of the Triforce was a state secret. They are just recognizing the symbol from their crest._

"You probably don't even know how lucky you are," one of the Hylians told Kokron. "Prince Darion has promised fifty thousand rupees to any man or woman with that mark on their hand."

Kokron had no idea how much fifty thousand rupees were worth, but it sounded like a lot. So Zelda's brother knew about the Triforce pieces, which probably proved his sister's theory right that he had had something to do with the split.

_But why are they still calling him prince? Shouldn't he have become king by now?_

"I'll guide you to the prince," a woman eagerly offered, "if you give me a share of the reward!"

Several other Hylians joined her and tried to sell their pathfinding services to Kokron, who politely pointed out that the Keep was not exactly easy to miss, even for a stranger like himself, and declined.

_At least now I don't have to worry about not being allowed inside the Keep. I can only hope that this Darion character hasn't done anything bad to his sister... for his own sake._

Kokron loudly announced that he was going to see the prince immediately, and the throng of people parted before him. Numerous supplicants followed him all the way to the Keep, asking him for a share of the rupees he did not possess yet, and possibly never would. It was a very awkward situation, and he politely asked them several more times to leave him in peace, but they would not listen, and only the armed guards at the Keep's main gate finally got them to stop following Kokron. He only had to show them his hand, and one of the soldiers immediately volunteered to guide him to the prince and led the way through the Keep's corridors.

"So, uh, what about the princess?" Kokron asked, trying to sound discreet. "Is she in good health?"

"Princess Zelda?" the man asked. "But she... oh, you probably haven't heard."

_That doesn't sound too good._

"Haven't heard what?" he inquired.

"There was a terrible accident," the man explained with a troubled expression on his face.

"An overzealous wizard placed a spell on the princess, and now she lies in a deep slumber and can't wake up. I haven't seen her, but... they say it's not much better than being dead."

As his worst fears were confirmed, frustration seized Kokron and he proceeded to vent it against the corridor's wall, punching and kicking it with all his considerable strength. He vainly wondered whether he would actually be able to put a hole into it as the mortar began to crumble, and preferred these inane musings to the reality that he had been right about his fears, and wrong in being coaxed not to accompany Zelda.

_And what does that teach me? Trust my own judgement over that of 'wise' people?_

_But it was not just Narala. Zelda herself wanted to go alone, so I'd just have been patronizing her by insisting to come._

_That's not much of a comfort. I bet she'd rather be patronized than dead, or as good as dead._

The guardsman watched the Goron's outburst, mouth agape, but did not dare to try and restrain him; after all, he was not harming anybody except the masonry, and any attempt to hold him back might have ended painfully.

"Where is that wizard now?" Kokron demanded after the pain in his limbs had forced him to concede victory to the sturdy wall. "I'll rip him to pieces. And I mean it."

"I'm sure you do," the soldier was quick to assure him, "but that won't be possible. The wizard was somehow killed by the effects of his own spell."

"Poetic justice, eh? At least that's something."

"Please don't judge the situation too rashly," the soldier begged him as they continued their walk along the corridors. "The prince said it was an accident, and ordered that the wizard be given a burial in accordance with his decades of service."

"That makes him an accomplice, as far as I am concerned," Kokron growled, remembering that he had actually defended the man. "He'll better have a good excuse, or I-"

"I recommend you watch your tongue," the guard cut him off, and his expression had changed from sympathetic to stern. "Prince Darion ordered the bearers of the Triforce mark to be brought before him, but said nothing about them not being shackled. And believe me, I'll have you put in irons if you make any more veiled threats agains his majesty."

_You and what army?_ Kokron wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Starting a ruckus here would reflect badly on his people as a whole, and probably only get him killed, anyway, considering that the huge Keep must be full of men-at-arms.

"I'm sorry," he apologized and hoped that it sounded more sincere than it was. "This news is painful to me, and I overreacted in my anger."

"Did you know the princess?" the guardsman asked, seemingly placated.

"Yes, I met her before," Kokron replied. "Half a year ago," he added, in order to conceal the fact that they had met at Zora's Domain, as that might have drawn the Hylian's attention to that place, and to Narala along with it. He usually had a strong stance against lying, but chose to be pragmatic this once.

_So now I'm playing this game, too, with the thinking-around-corners and paranoia. Narala would be overjoyed._

"For what it may be worth to you," the soldier informed him, "intruders defiled the wizard's grave two nights ago, but the prince drove them off."

"Sounds like somebody didn't like him."

"Nobody liked him. But he was still a servant of the royal family, like myself. And I wouldn't want anybody to open my grave. It's blasphemy, pure and simple."

That, at least, was something Kokron could agree with, and fell silent as he followed the soldier through the Keep, brooding over the sorrowful revelation about Zelda's fate. After turning a couple of corners, they finally stopped at a big double door guarded by two armoured soldiers.

"Is the prince inside?" Kokron's guide asked, and the men nodded. "This Goron has the Triforce mark on his hands," he told them. "The prince will want to see him immediately."

His comrades agreed and he loudly knocked at the door and opened it after waiting a few moments. Looking over his shoulder (which was easy, as Kokron was taller than most Hylians), he saw a large, mostly empty room whose most striking feature, next to the stained-glass windows, was the red throne on which a tall young man with short brown hair sat, silently talking to himself.

"Prince Darion," the soldier called out, and the man's head snapped around, turning toward the two arrivals.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice, as though he had been interrupted in something important.

"There's a Goron here who has the Triforce mark on his hand."

The prince leapt from his throne, his attention fully captured by the announcement.

"Bring him here at once! Ah, he's already there. Then let him enter!"

Before unblocking the way, the soldier walked up to the prince and whispered something in his ear, which made Darion examine Kokron curiously, almost as if he was taking his measure as a fighter. Then he nodded and picked up a long sword that had been leaning on the other side of the throne and sheathed it. "It's all right," he told the guardsman, "you may leave," and the soldier obeyed, giving Kokron a passing look that seemed to say 'don't try anything funny, or he'll make you regret it!'

_He probably told the prince about the little scene I made_, Kokron realized the meaning of the short exchange, _and to be careful._ _He certainly looks like a good fighter, so he might have a chance against me. _

_Possibly. On a good day._

With a friendly smile, Darion walked toward Kokron and offered his hand in greeting. Only now the Goron noticed the golden mark on Darion's right hand that looked exactly like his own.

_So he definitely has something to do with the Triforce. I really have to be careful._

The prince took notice of him taking notice. "Yes, you are right," he said jovially, "I have this sign, too. I can't tell you much about it, but rest assured that untold riches await you if you agree to be my guest for a short while."

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" Kokron asked as he clasped the man's hand and cautiously shook it, unfamiliar with this kind of greeting. Then again, frail creatures like Hylian who probably would suffer severe bruises from a proper Goron hug.

"Wealth is a great motivator for many men," the prince replied. "But if your kind has no use for rupees, I'll gladly give you something else in exchange."

"How about telling me what really happened to Zelda?"

Darion raised an eyebrow; he had obviously not expected this sudden change of subject. Kokron thought he saw hints of grief in his face, but Hylians were difficult to read for him, since he had only ever met a few of them.

_He damn well better be grieving after what happened to his sister._

"I don't know what stories you've heard, but let me assure you that it was a terrible accident. If anybody was at fault, that would be me for not properly instructing the wizard who put her into her terrible state. But," he raised his voice, "you'll be happy to hear that you can help her by simply staying as an honoured guest in the Keep until the third person with the Triforce mark has been located and invited here. Then I'll be able to break the spell that was cast on her!"

"The third person?" Kokron asked, trying to feign surprise. He must absolutely not give Narala's identity away, at least not before establishing that this young man was trustworthy. But the prospect of restoring Zelda certainly sounded tempting...

"Yes, there are only three people in the world who bear this mark on their hands, and they have to come together to unlock the power that can save Zelda – and many more! Although I did not expect a Goron to have it..." He coughed, embarrassed. "No offence, I mean. You're probably an extraordinary person, to be blessed with this mar."

"Well, I have been known to kill a dragon or two," Kokron could not help to boast.

"That's nice," Darion said without batting an eye. "Perhaps we'll have an opportunity to chat during your stay."

"Ho, wait, I didn't even agree on staying. For starters, why do you think this power should be yours, not mine?" He was not actually interested in obtaining it, but he wanted to test the prince's character.

"The Triforce is an heirloom of the royal family," Darion replied coolly. "Two of its parts were merely misplaced by accident."

"An awful lot of accidents seem to happen around you," Kokron pointed out. "Perhaps this power isn't safe with you?"

"Feel free to believe that," Darion replied in an increasingly frosty tone, "but that is not your decision to make. You should rather think of the riches you can gain by cooperating with me."

"I don't care about your riches," Kokron said, which was largely true, "and I don't like your attitude. Sons should inherit their father's strength of character, not their possessions. The decision about what to do with the Triforce must be made by both of us, and the third guy, when you find him." He allowed himself to feel smart for a second for confusing the issue of the third Triforce Bearer's gender.

"I'm afraid this is not subject to debate." Darion's voice was resolute and tolerated no objection.

"Then there's nothing for us to talk about. Find me again when you change your mind. I'm leaving."

"No, you won't."

Kokron laughed. "Your guards can't stop me."

"Perhaps not. But I can."

With a lightning-quick movement, Darion had drawn his sword from its sheath and nimbly circled around Kokron. He now blocked the Goron's way to the only visible door out of the room, his blade half-raised.

"You're insane!" Kokron exhaled, but the prince ignored him. "It's not too late for you to wisen up," he said. "You still have the choice between a locked, but comfortable room, or a damp cell in the dungeon."

"I will not be locked up," Kokron growled, and peered at the large stained-glass windows.

"There's no escape," Darion said, noticing his gaze. "There's a walled-in courtyard behind those windows."

"Then I'll just have to walk over you," Kokron announced.

"You would try to attack me, unarmed?" Darion laughed. "That would only make things easier for me. Perhaps you know, perhaps you don't, but the Triforce piece in you will leave your body once you die. So if you absolutely insist, come at me." He smiled at Kokron and motioned him to attack, self-assured enough not to make the first move.

_He would try to kill an honoured guest? He's crazier than I could have imagined._

"It looks like your father forgot to beat some sense into you when you were little. Allow me to make up for his failure." With that, Kokron launched himself at Darion, trying to hit his swordarm with his shoulder to knock away his weapon. Once he had done that, he would be able to easily overpower the prince without seriously hurting him and causing a severe diplomatic crisis.

"Oh, he used to beat me all right," Darion said, easily dodging Kokron's attack by making a little leap backwards. "But that only made me stronger." He gripped his sword in both hands and swung at Kokron, hitting the rock-hard back of the Goron who had been able to turn around quickly enough. The blow still was strong enough to almost send him toppling to the ground.

_He's strong, that one,_ he had to admit, _and no beds around to beat him with. This could be difficult._

Kokron took a backwards glance over his shoulder and was nearly decapitated when Darion's sword swept in a wide horizontal arc past his neck. He tumbled to the side and lost his balance, choosing to curl up instead of presenting his vulnerable side, and his momentum sent him rolling against the nearby wall with an audible crash. He quickly uncurled again, regaining his sight, and assessed the situation.

Instead of going after him, Darion had repositioned himself to keep the way to the door blocked, now standing directly next to the wall Kokron had crashed against, which gave him little room to properly swing his sword. But before the Goron could capitalize on this, the throne room's door flew open and the two guards came running inside, no doubt alarmed by the noise.

"Your highness, what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing, just a little assassination attempt," Darion laughed.

"Hey, wait a second!" How dared he misrepresent things so brazenly. "You bastard!"

But there was no point in trying to explain himself: Even if he were to point out that an assassin would surely carry some kind of weapon, Kokron very much doubted that the soldiers would believe him over their prince.

After throwing the door shut behind them, the two men rushed toward the prince's side, their long spears pointed at Kokron, and, although Darion looked slightly dismayed that this fight was about to come to an end, he did not bid them to withdraw.

_This is where you say "No, leave him to me!", damn it. I can't fight you all at once!_

But Darion had no intention of needlessly putting himself at a disadvantage, and motioned the two men to advance toward the supposed assassin. Kokron walked backwards and to the right as they approached him, trying to put some distance between them and himself. Darion laughed as he saw his enemy retreating toward a dead end, while moving accordingly to continue blocking the door. "What was that about walking over me?" he taunted him.

"Fine, I changed my mind," Kokron shouted back. "I'll roll over you instead." He then implemented his improvised plan for a tactical retreat, which involved running toward the approaching guards as fast as he could, curling up just before the tips of their spears pierced his waist, running them over and rolling toward Darion.

To his dismay, he felt no further impact after hitting the guards, which meant the prince had managed to evade him again, but hitting him would merely have been a bonus: His true objective was the door, and the muted sound of splintering wood told him that he had estimated precisely enough to crash right through it into the corridor.

He promptly collided with the wall opposite to the door, unable to make a rectangular turn, but any Goron worth his salt could quickly gain speed after uncurling and continue rolling again. The long, straight corridors of the Keep were almost ideal for this, and Kokron swiftly moved away from the throne room, taking a new bearing everytime he hit another wall, and Darion's impotent threats soon became inaudible. Proficient in navigating identical-looking tunnels from decades in his home city in Death Mountain, he quickly reached the Keep's exit and raced past the guards at the gate, who were sufficiently stupefied not to pursue the ball of rock rolling out of the courtyard.

Once out of the Keep, Kokron uncurled and vanished into a back-alley and emerged on one of the town's main thoroughfares. Continuing to roll would have endangered the health of countless Hylians, and since word of his escape could not have reached the citizens yet, he calmly walked down the road toward the edge of town, folding his arms over his chest, hiding the Triforce Mark under his shoulder.

_They're bound to pursue me, _he thought when he reached the green plains of Hyrule Field without further incident, _but I'm faster than their horses. But where to go now?_

Narala had to learn of Zelda's fate and the prince's ruthless quest for power. Kokron was now convinced more than ever that none other than Darion was responsible for what had happened to his sister.

_But if I go to Zora's Domain now, I'll probably be spotted on the way. That would lead the Hylians right to Narala. I have to stay away from her for the foreseeable future, or he'll catch us both at the same time if we're unlucky._

For a brief second, he considered simply fleeing the country completely, going into hiding in one of the neighbouring kingdoms, perhaps disguised as a travelling merchant. But while that might have been the safest course of action, it was also the most cowardly, and there was no way Kokron would leave Narala and all of Hyrule behind at the mercy of this power-hungry prince.

_Death Mountain,_ the obvious choice came to him. _That's where they'll expect me to go, but that doesn't matter; it's not like anything can touch me in Goron City. And Narala must have informed Grangus by now, so I can talk to him about the Triforce, too. He'll know what to do. He always does._

After cursing Darion for what he had done to his own sister and for what he might yet to to Hyrule, Kokron looked to the horizon and quickly found the massive silhouette of Death Mountain in the northeast. After taking his bearings, he began rolling across the grassy plains toward his home.

* * *

"I agree with Thallius' argument," General Lohgrimm said. The bald warrior was clearly agitated and sitting on the edge of his seat like an impatient child, which belied his mature age of over fifty years. "Any dealings between the races of Hyrule must be conducted according to a strict code of honour. This vile attempt on the life of his highness is the most severe breach of this code since... since..."

"Since the attempt on Princess Zelda," Arnu remarked dryly. "And the one on the late king, if you believe it was murder."

"But the former was committed by a Sheikah, who falls under our own jurisdiction, and the latter by one of the desert rats of whom nobody would expect any better. But the Gorons must be held to higher standards. This treachery cannot go unpunished."

Several members of the Royal Council nodded their heads in support, and Darion took careful note who they were: General Shaz, who commanded the Sheikah Elites, Arx, the Keep's majordomo and Callach, a Sheikah wizard and the youngest of the now only Six Sages.

_"And the most eager to please. The things he would do in order to gain my favour..."_

_Shut up_, Darion thought for the thousandth time in the last four days, knowing full well that the ghost of the dead wizard in his head would not listen and talk as he pleased. Free of his body, and with Darion so far unable to expel him from his mind, he had become brazen and disrespectful, telling his unwilling host in no uncertain terms that he planned to stay forever and use him to advance his own agenda.

On the other hand, whether it was in pursuit of this 'agenda' or mere whim, he had actually helped Darion firmly seize the reins of his kingdom over the last few days. Whenever ambitious courtiers or clerks tried to use the change on the throne to improve their own standing, they could only stutter in disbelief when Darion confronted them with a scandalous bit of information from their past that the young prince had no right to know, courtesy of Malark, and were quick to shelve their ambitions when he threatened to make it public. Darion was still looking eagerly for a way to send the old wizard back to the grave, but as long as he did not succeed in that, he might as well get the most out of him. Still, he was so terribly rude, invasive and impudent that he often wondered whether it was the same Malark he had known in life.

_Or perhaps he was just pretending all those years._

_"That's none of your damn business, Darion. Now listen to your opinionated minions and pay attention."_

_You were the one who started talking, _Darion almost said aloud. Although Malark could hear his thoughts, the prince sometimes vocalized them, which to the outsider looked like he was talking to himself; a habit that might prove damaging to his reputation and must be broken as soon as possible. Still, like most of the time, the dead wizard had a point, and Darion turned his attention back to the meeting of the Royal Council that he himself had convened.

Shaz, the third of Hyrule's three generals, was currently talking and expressing his support of Darion's motion to mobilize the army for war against the Gorons, condemning the assassination attempt as the previous speakers had.

"You're one to talk, Shaz." Bergen, after Malark's death the oldest of the remaining Six Sages, interrupted him, his grating voice lashing out at the Sheikah general. "It was your daughter who tried to take Princess Zelda's life!"

"Perhaps you should check your eyes, old man. I am not my daughter," Shaz replied coldly. He had faced significant hostility ever since the body of Zelda's would-be assassin, brought to Keeptown with regards from Queen Narala, had been identified as his daughter Sharu, and he reacted increasingly irritated to any suspicions against him. "I know not what made her commit this vile act, and I have already denounced her memory. If anything, she was working with the late Malark, judging from how much contact she had with him in the last months."

"_Absolutely ridiculous,"_ Malark said in Darion's head. _"Don't believe a word that comes out of this scumbag's mouth. Trying to blame the dead – it's revolting! He probably gave the order himself."_

Of course Darion wanted to find the mastermind behind the the attempt on Zelda's life, but the investigation had surfaced no proof in any direction so far, and he had no justification to act against Shaz. He had not even made up his mind yet whether to believe the man's assurances of innocence, but that did not matter right now: His vote was all he needed.

"We will not discuss this matter here," he advised Bergen, and the old sage mumbled something into his beard, but obeyed. Shaz gratefully bowed toward Darion, a gesture Malark commented by calling him an insufferable suck-up.

"Do you have anything to say in regards to today's agenda, Bergen?" Darion asked.

"I'm against it," the old man said firmly. "War does no good for anybody. That should be obvious."

_"He was always this simple-minded,"_ Malark interjected. _"He only became a sage because there was a sudden vacancy."_

_Do you know anything we can use as leverage against him?_

_"No, not about that one. He is as virtuous as he is simple-minded. It's the same thing, really."_

_You're a terrible, bitter cynic._

_"You haven't even scratched the surface yet."_

"I agree with Bergen," one of the other sages named Rauru said. The randomness of the seating arrangement had placed him opposite to the prince on the circular table, right below one of the council chamber's high windows. When Darion turned in his direction, he was dazzled by the sun's light shining through that window, and could not look directly at the sage's face.

_"That's the intended effect. He always sits with his back to the sun if he can arrange it. He's a bit of a narcissist, taking the 'Sage of Light' thing so literally."_

"It is not just that war brings only destruction, although that common wisdom certainly is true," Rauru elaborated. "How do we even know this assassin was authorized by King Grangus? We must at least talk to him about this!"

"That's pointless," his young colleague Callach pointed out. "If he sent the assassin, he will deny it, and if he didn't send him, he'll deny it, too. And just for the record, I think he did authorize him. I am in favour of war."

"Mobilization for war," Thallius corrected him. "If King Grangus extradites the assassin, which I sincerely hope he does, no military action will be taken. My support for this motion rests on this condition, as I believe I made clear."

"You certainly did," Darion assured him, "and I have not forgotten it." He did not want the council members to argue too much. Let them make their case, then cast their votes, and be done with it. If they voted for mobilization, the better. If not, he would think of another way to get his hands on the Goron's Triforce piece.

"This is plain extortion." Rauru spoke again, to Darion's displeasure. Had he not already said his piece? "King Grangus can't hand over the assassin without virtually abandoning Goron sovereignty to Hyrule. We would be forcing him to choose between war and vassalage!"

"And what's so bad about that?" Arx, the Keep's majordomo, asked loudly. "These uncivilized brutes would only benefit from our rule! They are nothing but uppity cavemen who must be put into their place."

Most of the other council members, even the ones in favour of war, coughed or wrinkled their noses at the old man's words. Malark, on the other hand, seemed to find them amusing.

_"One almost has to respect his unashamed racism."_

_He's not doing me any favours with this. I want reasonable arguments in favour of mobilization, not his xenophobic ramblings._

"Thank you, Arx," Darion said aloud in order to cut the man's continuing rant off. "Your opinion is appreciated, as always."

_That makes five in favour, out of eleven. It's looking good._

"How about the remaining members?" he asked. "Any other statements?"

"Yes, your highness." Skyll, the young woman who had recently been elected mayor of Keeptown, chimed in. "I oppose this motion as well. We already lost so many people to the plague, we can't risk a senseless war now."

"Rest assured that under our capable leadership, losses would be kept to a minimum," Lohgrimm boasted, but Skyll was clearly not convinced.

"And what happens if you lose?" she asked. "We'll be open to retribution from the Gorons!"

"Why, Lady Mayor... what do you mean by 'if we lose'?" Lohgrimm asked with honest surrise. "If it comes to war, we shall conquer, of course."

"That's an easy promise to make," Skyll said, "but the people are the ones who have to deal with pillaging armies, if not in Keeptown, then in the outlying villages."

"Your defeatism is most unhelpful." Logrimm made a grimace that might be interpreted as indignation and chose not to comment further on the mayor's objections.

"Your concern is appreciated, Skyll," Darion said, trying to sound non-committal, yet respectful. "As for the remaining sages?"

The sage sitting at Rauru's right, an old man with remarkably large eyebrows, spoke up.

"I agree with Rauru that we should not put undue pressure on King Grangus, and rely on the subtle art of diplomacy to produce results," he said in a monotonous voice. "Furthermore, it has so far gone unmentioned that there is a mutual defence treaty between the Gorons and the Zora that has been honoured by both parties for centuries. Any offensive action against the Gorons could escalate into full-fledged war with not one, but two races of Hyrule, and I doubt that any of you wants that. Except perhaps our delectable racist over there," he pointed at Arx, who did not seem to take offence. "In conclusion, I strongly oppose this motion, with all due respect to the prince, because it could lead us all to ruin. I believe this bears repetition." He cocked his head. "Do you want to hear what I said again?"

"No, thank you, Kaepora," Darion was quick to answer.

_"It's a good thing you cut him off. He just loves to ramble on and on and on. Even I had difficulties shutting him up in the past, can you believe it? Kaepora 'the Wise' indeed."_

"In regards to the Zora," Lohgrimm interjected, "let me point out that their martial prowess is far weaker compared to ours, and even that of the Gorons. Even if they come to their allies' aid, they will not make a significant difference on the field of battle."

"Thank you, General Lohgrimm," Darion said. "I believe we can all defer to your impeccable military expertise." He looked across the table to the last remaining members of the Royal Council who had not voted yet, both of them sages. "That leaves just Arnu and Kasuto," he said.

_"Oh the powers that be, don't ask me which one of those two I dislike more."_

_Tell me, Malark: Do you actually like any of the sages?_

_"Don't be ridiculous. There's a reason I convened the Council of Sages, like, five times over the last ten years."_

_But weren't they your colleagues?_

_"Only by circumstances. Other than myself, there hasn't been a sage deserving of that title ever since Mudora took off to who-knows-where."_

_So you liked him, at least?_

_"Of course not. But I had some grudging respect for his skills."_

_I'm starting to see a common thread here, Malark: You don't like anybody._

_"A startling realization, your highness. I would clap in applause, but I lack the hands to do so."_

_Shut up._

_"You were the one who asked."_

"You know that as the Sage of Spirit, I have a special connection to the spiritual world, which allows me to see the future," Kasuto said meaningfully once she realized that it was her turn to speak. Her words elicited barely suppressed laughter among several of the council members who had a hard time believing her claim.

"I foresee terrible things if we ready ourselves for war," she continued in a foreboding tone. "Death, destruction, unfathomable misery."

"You never see anything else," Callach taunted her. "Doesn't it get boring?"

"Mock my gift at your own peril!" the old sage warned her young colleague. "I have seen your death, too! Do you want to know?"

"Oh, this is going to be interesting," Callach laughed. "Please, do tell."

"_You better cut her off, or she'll ramble worse than Kaepora ever could. This woman and her 'gift' have plagued me for decades, and I don't think she has ever been right about anything. _

"This is not the time for personal prophecies, Kasuto," Darion said. "I take it your vote is no." The old woman nodded.

_That's five in favour and five against. Which means Arnu gets to break the tie._

_"And isn't that just great..."_

"Arnu, what about you?" Darion asked the new head of the Six Sages who was sitting on his right side. "You are usually so outspoken, but I've barely heard anything from you."

"That's because I have been thinking Prince Darion," she replied. "It's not an easy decision to make, you know."

_"Arrogant, recalcitrant, insufferable. She hasn't changed a bit since I last met her in the flesh."_

_Spare me the declarations of love, I'm trying to listen here._

"You're not seriously considering a vote in favour?" Rauru asked his superior sage. "Think of the possible consequences!"

"Let her make up her own mind," Lohgrimm intervened, which earned him a piercing glare from Rauru.

"It is imperative that we capture this assassin," Arnu said.."Too many attempts on members of the royal family have been made recently. I had a suspicion regarding the mastermind, but... he's dead now, and the attempts still continue."

_Do you have any idea who she's referring to?_

_"Bah, she could never stand me. Trying to ruin my reputation after my death is just like her. And for the record, I never tried to kill any of your family members. I can even prove it: If I had tried, I would have succeeded!"_

_Shut up._

"As I said before," Rauru spoke up again, ignoring protests from Lohgrimm and Shaz, "there are other ways to go about this! We have to find out whether Grangus was behind this or whether the assassin acted alone."

"The thing is," Arnu replied, "it doesn't make a difference. If he acted alone, the king will hand him over with pleasure, and our army can go home again. But if the assassin was acting on Grangus's orders, he'll only abandon him if he faces a believable threat... such as an army on his doorstep."

_Thank you, Arnu. That would have convinced even me, if I had needed convincing._

But Rauru was not convinced by his colleague's words. "What if we're operating under a wrong assumption? What if the assassin wasn't really an assassin? What if it's all just a huge misunderstanding?"

"A misunderstanding?" Darion asked in disbelief. "How could I have misunderstood a huge Goron charging at me with his fists clenched and murder in his eyes? Besides, the two guardsmen are my witnesses."

_The story is really not that far from the truth, so it would be nice if you could find it in yourself to believe it._

"The guards weren't in there when the fight began," the orange-robed sage pointed out.

"What are you implying, Rauru?" Darion asked, trying to hide his nervousness by sounding stern. _Why is he getting suspicious now of all things?_

_"Don't worry, he has no case. If he challenges your word, you win by virtue of being the prince. If he doesn't... you win, too."_

Rauru looked across the round table into Darion's eyes for several seconds, then softly shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not implying anything," he said wearily. "Let her cast her vote. I'm done talking."

All heads turned from Rauru to Arnu, and the Sheikah sage nodded.

"Very well. I vote in favour."

"Then the motion is accepted," Darion announced quickly before murmuring could erupt. "Since time is of the essence, I would like all of you leave now, except for the three generals. We must prepare battle plans... for the worst-case scenario."

In truth, Darion really did not want war. At least he did not prefer it. If the Goron king was smart enough to hand over that damn Triforce Bearer, he would gladly withdraw his armies without spilling a drop of blood. But if he had to go to war to get back his property, then war it would be. The decision would lie with the Gorons.

The council members left the chamber one after another, dejected or happy depending on their expected outcome. They all met Darion's gaze and nodded or bowed in farewell, except for Rauru, who walked right past him as if the prince was not there. Arnu was the last to leave, having had a short conversation with Thallius.

"I don't like this at all, even though I voted in favour," she told him. "But I believe you'll doing the right thing, Darion,"

"I won't disappoint you," the prince answered. Satisfied, Arnu nodded and left the chambers.

_"And you didn't even flinch."_

_Shut up you hopeless cynic, I really meant it. Just because I have to lie sometimes doesn't mean I'm not trying to do good for my people. I'm not like you._

_"How can you say that when you don't really know me?"_

_I don't want to know you. I want you to get out._

_"A vain hope, your highness."_

_We'll see about that._

For once, Malark let him have the last word, and Darion began to talk strategy with the three generals.


	21. Death Mountain Ascent

**Chapter 21: Death Mountain Ascent**

When Link and his unit arrived at Kakariko village two days after the decision to mobilize for war had been announced, they found that the main body of the Hylian army had already arrived and turned the small Sheikah settlement into the staging area for the attack on the mountain that loomed above. The narrow pathways between buildings were crowded with soldiers young and old, some relaxed, some anxious, but all of them sharing the same expectant tension. Everybody knew that by tomorrow, some, if not many of them would be dead. Link idly wondered whether the old or the young were more likely to survive; whether the experience of age was a more valuable asset than the fitness and strength of youth or vice versa.

_I hope it's the latter,_ he thought dryly, considering the age of the nineteen men following behind him through the village's main entrance: None of them was older than twenty, at most, and some of them perhaps even younger than their sixteen-year-old commander. The fact that they had been sent to war after only a week of training was a travesty, as far as Link was concerned. But of course nobody had asked him, and orders were orders.

Everybody was busy, even if it was only checking their weapons for the umpteenth time or having hushed conversations under the overhanging roofs of the Sheikah buildings, and the arrival of Link's men was not acknowledged by anybody. They took the opportunity to sit down in one of the few alleyways that still offered some free space and catch their breath after the long march across Hyrule Field.

"I'm going to find the person in charge," Link told his men, "so we can get proper orders and know what to do. You just stay put. If the army moves out before I'm back, don't blindly follow but wait for me."

"Yes, mother."

"We're not starting the war without you."

"Bring us some candy when you come back!"

After a week as their instructor and commander, a temporary arrangement that somehow had persisted so far, Link was long past the point where their casual irreverence bothered him much; he simply chose to interpret it as a ass-backwards show of respect, which was probably not too far from the truth.

_Maybe I'm a little bit overprotective. But just a little bit. And it's not like I don't have a reason for it._

While the young soldiers dutifully obeyed his instructions during training and picked up new skills every day, their eagerness to risk their lives in battle continued to upset Link. On the very next day after their ordeal in Gadrin village, they had already idealized it as a glorious battle against the forces of evil. Link had tried to talk them out silly romantic notions, but the sentiment proved too strong for even his vulgarity-laden tirades to uproot. As far as his men were concerned, they had proven their mettle on that day and were now veterans ready for war.

_They have to learn the difference between courage and recklessness. And live long enough to apply that knowledge._

Leaving his soldiers behind, Link asked around and was pointed to the village's main square, where the leaders of the Hylian forces had supposedly set up their command centre. He slowly made his way through the crowded streets, probably stepping on more toes than ever before in his life, until he finally saw the flags showing the kingdom's crest flying in the wind.

_The Triforce. Everybody knows that it's real by now, thanks to Darion's announcements._

The command post was situated in the village's town hall, surrounded by a cordon of Hylian soldiers, and the only entrance was guarded by two black-clad Sheikah Elites. Wondering for a moment whether they would even let him in, Link stepped up, reported the arrival of his small unit and asked to meet somebody higher up in the chain of command.

"Well, well, look who's there," a derisive voice suddenly sounded to Link's right. He slowly turned his head and looked into the eyes of a Sheikah warrior who had been standing in the shadows between the town hall and the neighbouring building, blending in with the darkness as Sheikah were wont to do. Unlike his comrades, he was not wearing a black mask, but when Link inspected the pale features of the young man, he drew a blank.

"Pardon me, but... do I know you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Sheikah snarled. "We have crossed blades before! Or are you trying to insult me by pretending you forgot?"

Perhaps it was his condescending tone, or the fact that Link had only ever fought one Sheikah before; at any rate, he now recognized the soft voice as that of the masked fighter he and the other fresh recruits had fought on their first day in the barracks' courtyard. The man he had beaten in a training fight, but who refused to acknowledge that because Link had not been stupid enough to try and actually kill him.

_And that's why he's sounding so irritated? Man, get over it. Everybody loses sometimes._

"I am Ashra, of the Sheikah."

"Yes, I remember you now. I am Link. Pleased to meet you again." He was not particularly pleased. In fact, he greatly disliked it when people held irrational grudges, which only served to make life miserable for everybody.

"So they actually put you in charge of these neophytes from back then? I hope they've learned to swing a sword by now, or they'll just endanger their comrades." Ashra smiled an arrogant smile. "Lucky for me that I won't be fighting with them or you, since I have actually been given an important mission – the most important one! You and the other grunts are just there to lure the Gorons away from my men."

"Yes, great, whatever," Link said. He had not time to waste talking to this red-eyed peacock. He turned to the guards at the door and repeated his request to be shown to his commanding officer.

"It's no use asking," Ashra spoke behind him, unbidden. "The plague has wiped out most of the officers, so you'll answer to General Lohgrimm directly. And he's currently putting the finishing touches on our strategy with Shaz and Thallius. They're not even letting me in, so don't get your hopes up."

The guards at the door confirmed Ashra's words, and Link decided to simply wait until the generals were finished and came out, which they had to do eventually. But like all things in life, there was a downside to that, and in this case, it was named Ashra. For all his 'important mission', the young Sheikah seemed to be in no particular hurry to go anywhere and simply remained where he was, gracing Link with a smug smile as if waiting for something.

"So, what's that important mission of yours?" Link finally asked in an attempt to be amicable.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ashra replied happily. "You see, it's not just because of my natural leadership qualities that I was entrusted with this, but also because I have in my hands the one item that will open the path to victory."

"Your hands are empty," Link could not help but point out.

"I know that, you fool. I was speaking figuratively, if you know what that means. The item in question will be delivered momentarily." He lifted his head and looked around, overseeing the main square. "Ah, there it comes," he said and pointed into the crowd of soldiers.

Although he could stand Ashra less and less with each word he said, Link mechanically turned his head and saw an old Sheikah male walking on a cane, slowly making his way through the throngs of soldiers, cursing and berating them every step on the way.

"Grandfather, this way!" Ashra shouted.

"Yes, I know. I can still see very well!" the old man shouted back. He soon arrived at the town hall and planted himself in front of the two young men standing there in wait. In spite of his physical frailty, he was still taller than both of them. He was almost completely bald and wore a black eye patch over his right eye.

"Did you bring it?" Ashra asked.

"Of course I brought it." The old man produced an item from a bag that was slung over his back and held it into Ashra's face. Link recognized it as some kind of magnifying glass with a purple frame and a red imprint on the lens that made it look like the pupil of an eye.

_And this is supposed to open our way to victory? I am not impressed._

"Don't break it!" the old man cautioned his grandson. "If you do, I'll... I'll..." He struggled for words fit to describe the magnitude of such a calamity, but eventually gave up. "You won't break it," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I won't," Ashra confirmed and bowed before the old man. "Thank you, grandfather. I will return it immediately once our mission is successful."

_So he's only nice to people who have something he wants? What a charming character._

"You better do. Or else..." The old man lifted his cane and waved it around, hitting another soldier and promptly cursing him for being in the way. "I'm going back home and try to get a nap. Of course that'll be impossible with all the noise you soldiers are making. I swear I'm just lending this to you so you can win your stupid war and get out of my village."

"I'll be happy to oblige," Ashra murmured as his grandfather took his leave and parted the throngs of soldiers with his cane. "Anyway," he turned to Link, his expression once again cocky and arrogant, "this little family heirloom is actually a magical item of great potency."

"Yes, I can tell because it's purple."

Ashra frowned. "That's not funny. It is called the 'Lens of Truth', if you care to know, and with its help one can see through any veil of deception, magical or otherwise."

"And how is that supposed to help us?"

"Oh, it's simple: You see, while the Gorons live in the tunnels in and below Death Mountain, they didn't actually dig most of those themselves. There's a huge network of caves and tunnels there, most of them unused, and there are multiple exits and entrances around Kakariko village. Do you understand the implications?"

Link thought he understood them fairly well; actually, they were kind of obvious. But Ashra clearly loved the sound of his own voice, so Link simply shrugged and let the Sheikah continue.

"Now, the Gorons aren't totally stupid. They know that leaving a backdoor to their capital isn't the smartest thing in the world, so they filled up most of the tunnels with boulders long ago, and camouflaged the ones that weren't blocked so the untrained eye couldn't tell them from the rock of the mountain. And this," he triumphantly lifted the Lens of Truth into the air, "is where my item comes in!"

He looked at Link as if expecting applause. Link did not oblige, but Ashra still droned on.

"We – and by we, I mean a small team of Sheikah Elites led by none other than myself – are going to enter the cave network via an old tunnel near the village entrance, and, using this marvellous item, find the hidden path to Goron City! We'll clear away the boulders with explosives and appear in their city like vengeful ghosts, and accost the villain who tried to murder our prince!"

"You make it sound so easy," Link said, thoroughly unconvinced that the plan would work as smoothly as Ashra hoped. "Then why is the rest of the army even here if you Sheikah can handle it yourself?"

"That should be obvious," Ashra smiled. "Even we Sheikah Elites would be outmatched if we had to fight all the Gorons within their city – quality against quantity, you understand – so you foot soldiers will provided the necessary distraction. To put it bluntly, you are nothing but decoys."

"Lots and lots of decoys, and pretty well armed," Link said defiantly and made a sweeping gesture with his arm to indicate the hundreds of soldiers around them. "Maybe we'll beat you to the city and make your little infiltration unnecessary."

"You're welcome to try," Ashra said and giggled. "But don't get your hopes up. There's no way you'll defeat the Gorons in an uphill battle." He looked up at the colossal peak rising beyond the village. "Make that 'up-mountain'. The best thing you can hope for is that you're still alive once we've finished our mission."

As much as he disliked Ashra, Link had to admit that his prediction was not without merit – the Gorons were going to have several natural advantages, not least of all the steep and narrow trail leading up to Death Mountain proper.

_If the Gorons are smart, they won't face us at all. They'll just wait at the ledge of the mountain and gently push us down once we climb up._

_Then again, they probably won't be able to resist the bait walking up to them on a platter, and will try to take as many soldiers out as they can._

Thinking about the situation as if he was not even involved helped Link fend off the queasy feeling stemming from the realization that he was going to be part of that bait. Strategically speaking, the plan was probably sound – assuming the cocky young Sheikah did not foul it up. Then again, he might just be lying about being in command of the party entering the tunnels in a pathetic attempt to impress Link.

_This strategy definitely has a better chance to succeed than a simple head-on assault. Although it really makes me feel expendable._

Wih a sad sense of nostalgia, Link remembered Thallius' words that their small kingdom avoided wars whenever possible.

_I guess he was wrong. I really hope Darion knows what he's doing. Or at least his generals._

"I'd love to tell you more," Ashra interrupted Link's musings, "but I think they're coming out."

The young Sheikah was right: The guards at the town hall's entrance were stepping aside, and three tall and imposing men walked out of the building. First came Thallius, girded in polished white armour and with his longsword slung over his back, looking every bit as a knight as when Link had last seen him three days ago.

Behind him walked a lightly-armoured man with a pale face and short, ashen hair, clearly recognizable as a Sheikah. Link had never seen him before, but he knew it must be Shaz, commander of the Sheikah Elites.

The commander of the regular army, a stout old veteran named Lohgrimm, came in last, belying his seniority over his two peers. Link had only seen him once from afar, two days ago during exercises in the barracks' courtyard. Since he and his men were part of the regular army, they ultimately answered to him, not Thallius, even if the Knight Commander had taken a bit of a liking to Link. The gold-plated helmet on Lohgrimm's hairless head bespoke his authority, but it also stirred unpleasant memories of the Stalfos leader who, according to Thallius, was still at large.

"Generals!" Ashra stepped forward and drew their attention on himself before Link could ask about his orders. "I have procured the item as promised!" He handed the lens of truth over to Shaz, who inspected it with scrutinising glances.

"You damn well better have," Lohgrimm said. "But I'm still not quite comfortable with relying on this thing as the linchpin of our strategy..."

"Do not worry," Shaz answered. "The owner is a crazy coot, but the Lens of Truth has been proven to work time and time again." He handed the lens back to Ashra, who bowed graciously, ignoring the comment about his grandfather.

"I will take your word on this," Lohgrimm said and addressed Ashra. "We only have this opportunity," he cautioned the young Sheikah. "If you fail for any reason, the Gorons will collapse the tunnels permanently, and we'll have to raise a ramp in order to lead the main army up the mountain. That would take weeks, not to mention huge casualties. The prince demanded quick results, and he shall have them."

"You won't be disappointed," Ashra assured Lohgrimm.

"I hope so, but I'm always prepared for the worst," the general said dryly. "Take your men and assume your position at the tunnel entrance. Be ready to move out the second we give the order."

"Yes, Sir!" Ashra saluted and was on his way, not without gracing Link with another condescending smile. "Meet me in Goron City," he called after him, "if you want to earn my respect!"

_Tell me again why I should be interested in your respect?_

"Oh, Link, I didn't see you there," Thallius took note of him. Link gave him a short nod, but decided not to play on his familiarity with the Knight Commander, as that might make him look bad in the eyes of his colleagues.

"Sirs! My unit arrived late, and we don't have our orders yet," he said.

"And why did you arrive late?" Lohgrimm demanded.

"We received our marching orders one day after the other units, Sir!" _It wasn't our fault, that's what I'm trying to say._

"He's the one I talked to you about," Thallius intervened. "From the unit of fresh recruits."

"Ah, yes, now I remember." Lohgrimm gave Link a critical stare. "I am to blame for your late orders. To be frank, I had intended to leave you rookies back at the Keep, but General Thallius had spoken so highly of you, I changed my mind later. I hope you prove worthy of his accolades." He smirked. "Still, I trust you won't be offended when I tell you that you'll be kept among the reserves during the first assault."

_Offended? Gods, no, I'm happy we won't get massacred during the first two minutes!_

"That's quite all right with me," Link hurried to assure his supreme commander. "No matter where you put us, we'll all do our best."

"You see the battle standards over there?" Lohgrimm pointed at the flags in the middle of the main square. "The reserves assemble around the green banners. The red ones will be carried to the frontlines. If you get attack orders, that's where you go. War is chaotic, as you'll soon find out, so it's usually best to keep things simple. Any questions?"

"Uh... not about the standards, but..." Link hesitated, because his question might be considered impertinent. But he had to ask it, anyway. "Why not just besiege the Gorons? I admit that as a footsoldier I'm pretty biased, but wouldn't that reduce losses greatly?"

The bald general's eyes narrowed and he looked at Link as though he had suggested to surrender before the battle had even begun.

"Are you having second thoughts, soldier? I hope not, because it'd be a little too late for that."

"No, Sir! It was an honest question, nothing more. Really."

_I know I signed a binding contract. I'm not going to desert or anything, so there's no need to stab me with your gaze._

Thallius rolled his eyes. "It was also a stupid question," he said. "In case you didn't know, the Gorons eat rocks. Trying to starve them would be kind of idiotic."

"And besides," Lohgrimm added, "the losses won't be so harsh as long as you soldiers move in formation and follow orders. We just have to occupy them long enough for the Sheikah to do their job. If we're lucky it'll be over in a matter of hours."

"No," Thallius interjected. "If we're lucky, King Grangus will still see reason and the fighting won't even start at all."

"We have been over that," Lohgrimm said. "There's no sign that he's changed his mind after the last messenger returned." Thallius muttered something in reply, but it was only to himself.

Shaz, who had followed their conversation with ill-concealed disinterest, thought it was time to take his leave. "I'll be at the tunnel entrance," he said, "and oversee the infiltration from there, as planned. We'll stay in contact via messengers."

"Very good," Lohgrimm said. "Best of luck to your men."

"And to yours."

"I'll be leaving then, too," Thallius said. "My mounted troops won't be of much use on the narrow trail," he explained in Link's direction, "so we'll guard the rear and make sure no Zora relief forces ambush the army from Hyrule Field."

"It's not the most glorious task for your knights," Lohgrimm admitted, "but the one the situation calls for."

"Just one more thing," Thallius said earnestly. "Please have one more talk to the Goron leader when you face them," he implored Lohgrimm.

"They sent away all our messengers, and Grangus has denied everything," his fellow general answered. "It's not likely he'll change his mind now." Link thought he sounded uncomfortable with the prospect of calling off the entire operation due to a last-minute extradition

"I only ask that you try. May the goddesses watch over you." Thallius looked at Link. "Try not to get yourselves killed," he told him, "or you'll make me look stupid." With that, he turned around and swiftly made his way across the crowded square toward the village entrance, and the masses of soldiers parted before him as readily as grain in a field.

"Go back to your unit now," Lohgrimm told Link. "When you hear the sound of a horn, lead them through that gate over there up the trail. Remember, you assemble around the green banner."

"Understood, Sir," Link saluted, and was on his way back to his men. In spite of his overtly respectful attitude, he was filled with misgivings about the battle plan – being used as a diversion did not sit well with him at all. He had joined the army to protect helpless people, not to lose his life as a pawn in a stupid war.

_I simply have to fight as hard as I can to get out of this alive. _

_After all, I can't let Kari work my parents' farm forever, right?_

Thinking of his lifelong friend, who, if it had been up to him alone, should have been more than that, filled Link with a sudden urge to drop everything and go home to Valhart at once. Even though he was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of people, he suddenly felt very lonely.

_There's no going back now_, he chided himself. _And I mustn't get distracted once the fighting starts! Kari would definitely hate it if I died because I thought about her._

Link forced his thoughts to return to the here and now and continued struggling through the throngs of soldiers. When he reached the alleyway where his men were waiting, they had already grown impatient.

"Just who or what have you been doing?"

"We thought you were going to desert!"

"Oh yes, I could totally use a dessert right now!"

"Shut up, you dumb brick."

Whenever his men went like this on with their jeers and stupid jokes, without a care in spite of the fact that war was just around the corner, Link felt the undeniable distance between himself and them. Perhaps they subconsciously felt the same as him, and were afraid of the coming battle, and only acted so casually because of peer pressure. That idea was incredibly frustrating, though: If all of them felt the same, then why were they here? Link decided that he would rather think of them as honestly looking forward to war, even thought that filled him with both pity and contempt for them.

_Who's the bigger idiot: The one who goes to war happily, or the one who does it unhappily?_

_I have no idea. But I definitely feel like an idiot right now. Perhaps both are the same._

Link shook of his now useless thoughts and vociferously informed his soldiers that they were irredeemable halfwits who must be suffering from stunted brain growth; only after that did he tell them what he had learned. They booed when he mentioned that they would be part of the reserve, but he referred them to General Lohgrimm in case of complaints, which shut them up quickly.

He had barely finished relaying his information when the sound of a horn coming from main square alerted Link and his men that the time to march had come. He told them to stay put until most of the soldiers had left the crowded streets of Kakariko, then had them fall in line at the rear. Perhaps a hundred men other than them were flocking around the green banner, and together, the reserves followed the main army at some distance through the iron gate leading to the Death Mountain Trail.

The path was so narrow that no more than six men could walk next to each other, although it seemed to widen considerably further up ahead. The army came to a stop a short way up the trail, and Link managed to catch a glimpse of Lohgrimm's golden helmet among the troops near the forefront of the formation. He was oddly reassured by that.

_At least he puts enough stock in his own battle plan to lead us from the front._

"Make way!" a muffled, but still loud voice sounded behind Link, and the clanging of metal quickly approaching from behind told him that it was a good idea to heed the command lest he be run over by the juggernauts trudging up the narrow trail. He pressed himself against the rock of the mountain, as well as the other soldiers that constituted the reserves, and stared at the six bulky figures that trudged up the trail. They wore black cloaks and capes over heavy suits of armour, and their helmets were covered by hoods and masks of the same colour. In sharp contrast to their heavy armour, their armament consisted only of shortswords that might as well have been toothpicks compared to the huge frames of their owners.

The strange knights – if they even were knights – continued past the reserves and, repeatedly shouting at the soldiers to get out of their way, hurried toward the vanguard. Link narrowed his eyes and saw that they had come to a stop next to Lohgrimm, received orders and then spread throughout the formation.

"Who are these guys?" several of his men asked after resuming their positions on the mountain path, and Link could only mirror their question.

"Don't you rookies know anything?" one of the older soldiers who were also part of the reserves answered. "They are Sheikah battle mages."

"Why do they give the best armour to them?"

"Because they're more important than you or me. You'll see soon enough," the middle-aged soldier replied and turned his back to Link's men. Link did not know much about magic, but he it was common knowledge that only a very limited number of people were ever trained in its arcane arts. Some said that was because the king did not trust his people with that knowledge, but most people held superstitious beliefs against magic and were quite fine with never learning the least bit about it. At any rate, there were at most two dozen upper-tier magic users in service to the king, which included the Six Sages, most of whom were old women and men unsuitable for combat.

_Of course they get the best protection possible. You can't easily replace highly-trained wizards, unlike fresh recruits who a week ago couldn't swing a sword without hurting themselves._

Once again, Link pushed the unsettling awareness of his own dispensability aside and tried not to wonder how well his own slightly rusted chain mail would fare against a Goron weapon. He almost wanted to join those of his men who were going on about how unfair it all was, but he knew better than to complain at this stage. He wanted to tell them as much when the booming sound of General Lohgrimm's voice was carried to their ears by the harsh mountain winds.

"Brave soldiers of Hyrule! Defenders of the realm!" he began what was bound to be an inspirational speech. "Remember why we are here today, risking our lives, proving our courage. We are here because a member of the Goron race tried to murder our rightful ruler! We cannot let this crime go unpunished."

Cheers erupted when Lohgrimm mentioned Darion, and the soldiers around Link vowed to bring justice to the villain who had tried to kill their prince, even though few of them had probably ever met him in person.

"We are not here to conquer the Gorons," Lohgrimm continued, "or occupy them. We will fight, and win, and walk home at the end of the day. And we will take the assassin with us, dead or alive, it matters not. Now go forth. For his majesty! For Hyrule!"

Link took the liberty not to join the soldiers as they repeated the battleshout "For Hyrule!" half a dozen times, and nobody seemed to take notice or care. Working themselves into a frenzy would only lessen their chances to survive the battle, he knew, although he could see how Lohgrimm would rather have frenzied than apathetic or even unwilling soldiers.

"Liar!" a new voice sounded from above, echoing through the cliffs. The soldiers raised their heads and looked up as one man, and this time, Link did the same. He did not like what he saw, although it was not really unexpected. On a rocky ledge many feet above them, dozens of Gorons had taken position and looked down on the Hylian invaders, contempt clearly visible in their faces even at this height. Chestplates hanging on chains over their shoulders covered the soft bellies that were their kind's only weak spot, and they wielded heavy warhammers and axes that most Hylians would have been unable to lift. To Link, who had never seen one of their kind before, they all looked the same: equally furious and equally dangerous.

Several arrows flew up the ledge, but none came even close to hitting their mark. There were only few archers among the Hylian troops, and not even a master marksman could have hit a target that high in this wind. Lohgrimm barked at the bowmen to cease fire immediately, since he had not given any orders to attack yet, and Link recalled Thallius' urging him to have one last talk.

_Please let their spokesman be well-spoken and convincing,_ he prayed, but did not allow himself any real hope.

"You are a liar," the Goron closest to the ledge repeated, brandishing a spiked mace, completely ignoring the flimsy missiles that had been fired at him. Even though he was clearly trying to control his temper, his deep, underlying anger could not be mistaken. "And your prince is a liar." He did not pause when the soldiers shouted insults up the ledge, defending their ruler, but simply raised his voice even more. "I did not try to kill him. He tried to kill me. And you are fools to the last if you sacrifice your lives for a liar."

"Silence!" Lohgrimm shouted. "Do you speak for King Grangus?" he asked. If the Goron's accusation had angered him, he concealed his feelings well.

"For him, and for myself. For I am Kokron, the dragonslayer!"

"We can still avoid fighting," Lohgrimm shouted and was promptly booed by his own men; something Link found particularly stupid. "Surrender yourself, and you will spare the lives of countless of your kinsmen."

"Didn't you listen to me?" Kokron replied. "There's no reason for me to surrender. There's no reason for us to fight. Walk away, or you'll learn why this place is called Death Mountain!"

"I didn't expect an assassin to know anything about honour!" Lohgrimm shouted. "I try to reason with you, and you add insult to injury by calling our prince a liar? You are scum, and if your people are too foolish to see this, they will pay a heavy price for not casting you out!"

_So much for a peaceful solution_, Link thought, and remembered his own experience with Darion one week ago. The prince had been nice enough, but clearly prone to irrational acts, as his performance in their duel had proven. Perhaps the assassination attempt had never really happened? Perhaps this Kokron truly was innocent?

But even if he was, he clearly could not prove it, or he would have presented such proof. And besides, Link had to remind himself once again, it was really not the time or place to be distracted, or he might lose his head before he knew it.

"I didn't even want to talk to you, you know," Kokron called down from the precipice. "I just wanted to smash as many of your soldiers as it takes for you to turn tail and run. But the king made me try to find a peaceful solution, so I did my best." He paused, and perhaps he smiled, but he was too high up for Link to tell. "I think I like it better this way."

Having said that, he turned around and vanished from the Hylians' sight, and his fellow Gorons did the same. Confusion broke out among the soldiers who had been expecting the beginning of hostilities, and Link's own men were no exception.

"Where did they go?"

"What are they doing?"

"Well, for starters, I don't think they're going to hug us," Link said. "The smartest thing to do would be... uh oh..."

The Gorons reappeared above them, rolling huge boulders toward the precipice, looking like oversized dung beetles, as Link could not help to note. Except that the rocks they were pushing would kill many of his comrades and quite possibly himself. Nervous murmurs broke out all around him as the other soldiers realized the same thing. The Gorons pushing the boulders had stopped at the very edge of the precipice, and it would take only a gentle nudge to send the rocks crashing down into the Hylian army trapped on the narrow path between the mountain and a deep chasm.

"Don't panic!" Lohgrimm's shout echoed from afar, clearly aware of the danger that his men might simply stampede back into Kakariko. "We got this covered!"

"Oh yes?" Kokron mocked him. "I'd like to see that." He gave a sign to his fellow Gorons, and they pushed the first wave of boulders over the edge. The rocks came crashing down the mountain, and the soldiers screamed in terror, but before Link could decide whether to scream as well (he did not want to because it was useless, but the urge was _very_ strong), the boulders were suddenly stopped in mid-air, as if hitting an invisible barrier. Sparks flew, and a short blue flicker appeared wherever one of the rocks was deflected. They bounced up again and rolled over the soldiers' heads before plummeting into the chasm beyond.

"What foul trickery is this?" Kokron shouted. "Throw more!"

_I, for one, am very happy about this foul trickery_, Link thought.

As the second wave of boulders came crushing down, it was caught by the invisible barrier as effectively as the first one, doing no damage at all to the Hylians. Like Link, most of the soldiers were dumbfounded, but relieved and cheered every time a rock was propelled into the chasm off the trail's right side. Only some of them did not seem surprised and allowed themselves gloating smiles.

"Now you see why I said the mages were important!" the soldier from before shouted at Link's men. "Of course the generals expected this and prepared for it!"

Link nodded, more to himself than the soldier who had already turned around again. He could not see them, but somewhere among the soldiers, the six Sheikah battle mages must be performing their magics in order to protect the army from the death that rained from above. It was not the first time he had seen magic come in useful, but it was definitely the most impressive occasion thus far.

_Remind me to thank those Sheikah personally after the battle. But I'll probably have to wait in line for that._

"Your magics won't save you!" Kokron shouted, not even trying to hide his frustration. "You still have to follow the trail and circle around the whole mountain to face us, and we'll be raining rocks on you every step on the way. Let's see how well your shield holds up." He paused for a moment. "And if it does, you'll have to face me. Do you have the courage for that?"

_He's certainly full of himself..._

"Men, form ranks and advance!" Lohgrimm shouted. "Spearmen to the front, archers in the rear, and the reserves keep close behind the main army! We'll follow the trail around the mountain and meet them head-on! Protect the mages at all cost! For Hyrule!"

"For Hyrule!" the soldiers shouted in reply and like an avalanche that had gotten its direction wrong, they charged up Death Mountain Trail, barely keeping formation in their eagerness to join battle. Link silently shook his head as his men advanced behind the main force, because he completely failed to comprehend his comrades' enthusiasm for the bloodbath that lay ahead.

_I just wanted to help people_, he thought not for the first time today._ How did I get myself into this mess?_ The urge to turn around and flee was stronger than ever. But even though he was marching at the very back of the army, there was no way to turn around now, not without being noticed by his own frenzied comrades or stopped by the Sheikah guards at the village exit, and he would certainly be executed on the spot for deserting.

There was no way to avoid this, Link knew, and resigned himself to that knowledge. In his sixteen years, he had already encountered Death more often than he preferred. Now he would be introduced to his older brother, War.

I really could have done without this. But that's fate for you.


	22. Forced Treatment

**Chapter 22: Forced Treatment **

Koume was growing so very sick and tired of the Keep's corridors with their narrow and useless windows just below the ceiling, the old, worn-down red carpets on the floor and the countless torches that illuminated the hallways at night. She realized that during their days of snooping around, she had never seen anybody light them or put them out.

_It must be magic_, she thought, only half-joking.

On the plus side, navigating these corridors had become much easier after realizing that the differently-coloured threads woven into the the rim of the carpet were actually a sort of guidance system that showed which part of the Keep one was currently in.

Right now, Koume was on her way to the south wing in the desperate hope to find help for Kotake. Her sister's condition had continuously worsened for three days in a row, and now, after a painful progression of fever, infection and blackouts of increasing frequency and length, she had not woken up after the most recent blackout around noon. She was still breathing, thankfully enough, but nothing Koume could do had roused her from her unconsciousness, and she had to admit to herself that she was at her wits' end.

But she was not completely out of options yet. During the three days of sneaking through the Keep, stealing bandages and ultimately useless medical herbs from storerooms, she had overheard several conversations which in turn pointed her to the person who might just be able to save her sister. Provided of course Koume could convince her. But she had a plan for that, too.

_If it isn't already too late. But I mustn't think about that..._

Walking the hallways of the Keep during the day was extremely risky, but Kotake might not survive until nightfall, so Koume simply had to be more cautious than usual. Still, luck seemed to be with her for once, for she arrived in front of the room where the head of the Six Sages lived without meeting another living soul. She took a deep breath and threw the door open.

A medium-sized room lay before her, its walls lined with shelves full of tomes and mysterious-looking objects, and a large table cluttered with beakers, bottles and bowls containing all kinds of liquids and powders. An old woman with gray, short-cropped hair was sitting in an armchair and reading a thin booklet. She immediately looked up as Koume entered and quickly closed the door behind her, seeming slightly irritated at the unexpected guest's arrival.

"You are Arnu, the sage" Koume stated and made sure the woman could see her left hand resting on the hilt of her sabre. "I need your help."

"We all need help," Arnu commented, clearly surprised by the armed woman's entrance, but not particularly afraid. "Some of us more than others." She paused. "Wait. Are you the woman the prince talked about? The one who took his brother hostage? You fit the description. "

"That wasn't me," Koume answered truthfully. "It was my sister." At this juncture, she could not afford to beat around the bush and waste time with making up believable lies. She could only hope that her leverage would be enough to enlist the sage's services.

"Your sister." Arnu nodded in reminiscence. "I was told that the Gerudo King was accompanied by two women who looked the same. So that would be the two of you." Her cold stare pierced Koume. "Did you have anything to do with the King's death? Answer me!"

Koume wanted to protest their innocence, but this was not the time or place. "I'm not here to talk about this," she said, trying to sound calm and collected. "They say you're a sage. You know magic, and also something of medicine."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She sighed. "But I suppose it's true. Still, you haven't answered my question..."

"I need your help!" Koume ignored her. "My sister... she's dying."

"That's usually a bad thing."

"Don't make fun of me! She's hidden in a safe place in the Keep. You have to come with me right now!"

"Oh, I have to? Really?" Arnu crossed her arms over her chest and gave Koume a look that said 'make me'. But she had expected the old woman to be uncooperative, and had come prepared. She pulled a small item out of her pocket and presented it.

"I think you recognize this."

She had found the musical instrument on her sister after she had come crawling back into their tower hideout, and an overheard conversation between two servants told her that a Gerudo thief had stolen a valuable heirloom belonging to the royal family. Putting two and two together had not been particularly difficult.

"The Ocarina of Time," Arnu said flatly. "So you have it."

"And I'll destroy it," Koume threatened, clutching the small blue instrument with her right fist, "if you don't help me!"

"Just calm down, will you?" Arnu said and raised her empty palms. Koume could not tell for sure, but the old woman seemed genuinely concerned about the ocarina.

_I was right! She doesn't want it destroyed! That means she'll have to do as I tell her. Oh please, don't let it be too late..._

"I don't think you are aware what kind of unique and powerful item you're holding there."

"But you are," Koume pointed out. "So, will you help me or not?"

Arnu sighed and shook her head. "Fine, I'll bow to the forces of ignorance, for the time being. What is your sister's problem?"

"She got a deep cut in her leg. I think it got infected. She's unconscious now."

"Oh my. How long ago was that?"

"Three days."

Arnu raised an eyebrow, then the other one. "And she's still alive after that time?"

"Yes!" Of course she might have died after Koume had left her, especially since – _Don't think about that!_

"I'll take a look at her, and do what I can," Arnu said. "But don't expect too much."

"Take what you need, quickly," Koume said, ignoring the sage's last sentence. Arnu nodded, gathered several jars and pouches from the table and shelves and put them into a brown bag. She hesitated, then walked across the room and returned with a small sphere made from glass or crystal. Green smoke was billowing inside, and a faint light radiated from it. Arnu carefully put the no doubt magical item in her bag, then looked at Koume.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

Koume prompted the Sheikah sage to leave the room first, and the two women stepped into the corridor. She closed the door behind Arnu so nobody would notice the sage's absence.

"Walk in front of me," she said, "where I can see you."

"I'd love to, but I don't know where we're going," the old woman said.

"Don't get smart with me, I know that!" Koume suppressed the urge to destroy the ocarina right here and now, just to spite the Sheikah woman, but controlled herself.

_I'm just a bit on the edge right now. It's all right. Everyone would be._

"She's in the north tower, in a room just below the roof. Go there directly, and don't talk anymore until we're there. If we come across anybody, you have to come up with a good explanation. Tell them I'm your prisoner, or something."

Arnu silently obeyed, still not looking as intimidated as Koume would have preferred, which was to say, not intimidated at all. But she was following her instructions, and right now, that was all that counted.

_I have to be very careful_, she cautioned herself. _She'll definitely try something – call the guards, or cast a spell, if I let my guard down for a second. She's old, but she looks crafty._

As the two women silently walked through the hallways, Koume listened into all directions for patrols or servants or anybody who might run into them. There was no room for error, or she would be captured, and her sister would certainly die.

_What will I do if that happens? We've never been apart for long... no, it can't happen!_

_That's ridiculous. _she reprimanded herself almost instantly._ Just because I don't want it to happen doesn't mean it can't. Childish, just like Garanth said._

_But if giving up hope is what it means to be mature, I think I want to stay childish._

Without encountering anybody, they arrived at the north tower, and Arnu began climbing the spiral staircase while Koume hesitated for a moment, attempting to cast off her pointlessly dark thoughts. She resolutely shook her head and hurried after the woman who technically was her captive but did little to behave like one. She moved as if from her own volition, her shoulders steady, never once looking back at the nightly visitor who was coercing her. Even though her grey hair bespoke her advanced age, she walked at a brisk pace and had no problem with the stairs.

_I wonder whether I'll be that agile at her age. That is, if I even grow this old. It's a dangerous life we're living... as Kotake could attest._

Koume rarely wasted any thoughts about how her and her sister's lives could have turned out differently, and if she did, she never voiced them, fearing merciless ridicule from Kotake, who never seemed to have any such doubts. The sisters had slowly been drifting away from Gerudo mainstream society ever since they had grown out of childhood and thoroughly enjoyed their lives as outlaws. They were bound by no law or custom unless they felt like it, and that was rarely the case. Daring to the point of recklessness, their sabre skills and natural agility had always gotten them out of any and all trouble they so boldly invited (and, if those proved inadequate, they could always rely on their fleet-footedness). Neither of them had ever been seriously injured, which in retrospect seemed like a miracle, and they rarely spoke about the dangers inherent in their lifestyle.

_Maybe that was a mistake. I mean... I don't want to be a pushover like Garanth, but... maybe there's a middle course between that and risking our lives at every turn._

Then Koume remembered that it had been her insistence in trying to get on the king's good side by taking on his mission that had led them into this situation in the first place, and sighed.

_I don't know anything anymore._

"Is this the place?" Arnu suddenly asked with a low voice, and Koume realized that they had arrived at the door to their hideout. She nodded, then redundantly added "Yes".

_I have to snap out of it! That's the second time I'm getting carried away. I wanted to be careful, didn't I?_

Arnu opened the door and entered the forgotten and mostly empty storeroom that had been the Gerudo sisters' clandestine sanctuary during their stay in the Keep, and entered, Koume following right behind her. Kotake's motionless body lying on the floor covered in old blankets looked like a corpse lying in state. Koume was reminded of their mother's dead body that had been placed in the Chamber of the Dead in the Spirit Temple, as was customary before the ceremonial cremation.

She did not have the strength to fight back those morbid childhood memories, and let them pass over her. Meanwhile, Arnu knelt down next to Kotake and inspected the unconscious woman with confident expertise. She drew in a hissing breath when she removed the makeshift bandage from Kotake's leg and inspected the festering wound.

"This looks very bad," she said. "No, it _is_ very bad."

"I know that," Koume snapped impatiently. She had not brought this 'sage' to tell her the obvious. "Can you help her?"

"She's beyond the aid of conventional medicine," Arnu replied calmly, "or any medicine, for that matter. Even amputation wouldn't save her at this stage. The infestation has already spread."

_Beyond the help of medicine?_ Fighting off despair, Koume saw an opening in that wording, and eagerly pursued it.

"So if medicine's no good, can you use magic to cure her? You're a wizard!"

"Healing magic is notoriously difficult," Arnu said while rummaging through her bag. "And I have to admit, I'm very, very bad at it." She produced the green-glowing crystal sphere which she had taken from a shelf in her room. "However, I'm not so full of myself to deny that others are more skilled than me." She pressed the orb against Kotake's wound, which caused the leg to jerk slightly.

"Give me a hand here, will you?" Arnu said with some irritation, and Koume knelt down beside her and clasped her sister's leg with the hand not carrying the ocarina, holding it still while the Sheikah woman pressed the orb against the wound for several minutes. Mostly ignorant about the workings of magic, Koume had no idea what to expect, but she certainly expected _something_ to happen. But as it were, nothing at all changed: The wound did not magically close, and Kotake did not gain consciousness. Arnu's dissatisfied scowl did not help things, either.

"It doesn't seem to work," Koume finally said, in the vain hope that the Sheikah sage would correct her, tell her that they just had to wait a little bit longer. But she merely bit her lips and nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't. Her condition is already critical... you should have come to me sooner."

"Don't blame me for what one of your soldiers did!" Koume shouted. "This is all the fault of your kind!"

"Yes, yelling at me will definitely help her," Arnu said. "Very constructive."

Koume let go of her sister's leg and buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She realized that she had let go of the ocarina, her only leverage on this woman, but she did not care. If Kotake could not be saved, she did not need Arnu's cooperation anymore, and the woman might as well take that stupid family treasure with her. To her surprise, Arnu was still there, next to her, after she had fought back the tears, staring at the glowing orb in her hand.

"There's still a possibility," she finally said, and Koume felt new hope rising in her heart. If the sober Sheikah had not abandoned all hope yet, neither could she!

"What is it?" she asked eagerly, although she would probably not understand the explanation if it involved magic.

"I could break it."

"Break what?"

"The spellsphere, of course." She looked up. "Ah, right, you wouldn't know. Well, in short, spellspheres like this one contain a single magic spell that can be used by anybody, even without any talent or training. Repeatedly, until it's used up. But if you shatter it, the entire power of the spell will be unleashed at once."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Koume asked. "Break it, before it's too late!"

"I will. But I want you to understand that this is my last resort, and there will be no promises. I'm not even sure the spell is even powerful enough – I didn't make this sphere, I just... took it from someone who no longer needed it."

"What?" Koume was very much surprised by that admission, even forgetting her sister's predicament for a moment. "So you mean you stole it?"

"It's only stealing if the owner is alive," Arnu said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, right. I though stealing from the dead was a greater crime than stealing from the living. Blasphemy, even."

"Only a self-righteous fool would say that. The dead don't need anything anymore, and that's that." She raised her eyebrows. "Or do you have moral objections against using it? In that case-"

"No, of course not!" Koume was pretty sure Arnu was not being serious with this, but she did not want to take any chances. "I was just surprised you were so pragmatic. Maybe we're not so different, you and I."

"I've dreaded the day someone would say that to me," Arnu groaned. "Very well, I'll do it now, before she slips away." She got up, lifted her right hand and, without any further ado, flung the sphere down on the room's wooden floor right next to Kotake's motionless body. It shattered on impact into countless tiny crystal fragments, and the green smoke that had been contained inside billowed up and quickly permeated the entire room. Koume held her breath, but Arnu shook her head and told her that it was not necessary; after all, it was a healing spell.

_Please let it work, please let it work, please..._

Koume turned around and stared at the wall, anxious that her looking at Kotake might somehow jinx it and prevent the spell from working, which was probably childish and stupid; but then again, what did she know about the workings of magic? Arnu did not comment, and so the two women waited silently until the green smoke began to fade and eventually vanished completely. Then somebody groaned, and coughed, and groaned again, and it took Koume several seconds to register who this somebody was.

"Kotake!"

She turned around and dropped to the floor where her sister had begun to stir and weakly moved her upper body, trying to rise. Koume gently held her down and could hardly believe her own eyes when she saw the deep cut in her leg closed completely. A long, ugly scar still bore witness to the near-mortal wound, and would probably remain there for the rest of her sister's life, but that was about as irrelevant as anything could get right now. The only important thing was that Kotake was alive and opening her eyes.

"What... where... Koume?" she whispered hoarsely, clearly disoriented.

"Yes, it's me. It's all right, you're going to be fine. Just fine." She looked up to Arnu, but the old woman did not contradict her, to Koume's great relief. "You'll be fine," she repeated. "Just relax now and lay still. Don't overexert yourself."

"How did you..." Kotake's gaze wandered and stopped at the black-cloaked Sheikah woman.

"Are you... Death?" she asked wearily, and Arnu snorted.

"That's not very flattering, you know. Nor particularly grateful." In spite of her words, Koume could see that she was smirking.

"That's the person who saved you," she told her sister, and only now realized the import of her own words. The Sheikah woman had truly saved a Gerudo, who, in her mind, might have been accomplice to the murder of her king.

_Perhaps there are some good people in the world after all. Well, maybe some good women._

"That's nice," Kotake said as though it did not concern her. "Very nice. But I'm so tired..." Her eyes closed again, and her head sank back to the floor.

"It's all right," Arnu reassued Koume before she could stark panicking. "The spell healed the wound and the infection, but her body has been greatly weakened. She needs to rest for now."

"But she'll live?

"Yes, she'll live, and she'll be fine. Courtesy of Malark." She cackled. "He'd probably spin in his grave if he knew I used one of his spellspheres to do a good deed. I bet he only made it to use it on himself if he was suddenly wounded and too weak to heal himself."

"It was all thanks to that small sphere?" Koume still could not quite believe it, although she had witnessed it first-hand. Arnu frowned and pointed at the crystal fragments on the floor.

"Just so you know, this 'small sphere' was worth about three thousand rupees, not to mention that the spell it contained died with Malark. I could just have pretended there was no way to save your sister, and not destroyed it at all. So I really hope you appreciate this."

"I do," Koume said and nodded emphatically. "Truly."

"Well, then?" Arnu presented the palm of her right hand.

"Uh, what do you mean?" Koume did not understand. Was she asking for some kind of payment?  
"Never mind, I'll fetch it myself," Arnu sighed, bent down and picked up the blue ocarina from where Koume had dropped it. "Oh, that," she said. "I guess I forgot about it."

"Some extortioner you are," Arnu mocked and inspected the instrument. Koume felt slightly stupid and sheepishly looked at the floor.

"It's undamaged," the Sheikah sage concluded and slipped the ocarina in what must be a pocket under her cloak. "Good for you."

"Is it really that valuable?"

"You bet it is. Among other things, it can be used to travel back in time. Which is, of course, nothing but trouble for all involved, because it can jumble the timeline, alter the present, all that nasty stuff. So it doesn't get much use. But it's still good to have around, just in case."

Truth be told, Koume could not really wrap her head around the concept of time travel, so she simply nodded, somehow relieved that the mysterious instrument was out of her hands. "Just do me one favour," she said.

"Another one?"

"A small one. I'll let Kotake sleep for an hour or so, then we'll leave the Keep as soon as possible. Please don't tell anybody about us before then." She gave Arnu a wry smile. "I mean, if they capture us and execute us, your efforts will have been for nothing, right?"

Arnu sighed and shook her head. "You don't get it, do you?"

"What?"

"I told you she needed rest, and 'an hour or so' is not nearly enough! If you force her to exert herself too soon, you might very well kill her. I assume you don't want that, so do not have her walk around before tomorrow at the earliest."

Koume protested. "But we can't stay here now that-"

"Now that I know about your hiding place?" Arnu looked amused. "Believe me, girl, if I had wanted you caught, you wouldn't have made it out of my room, ocarina or no. Rest easy. I'm not going to snitch on you now." She lifted her index finger. "At least not if you promise to behave. No more hostage-taking or any such shenanigans."

Koume looked at her sleeping sister. Her usually tanned skin was still deathly pale and a slight shiver went through her body every time she took a breath. She had to agree that she was in no condition to move.

"I promise," she finally said. "But... isn't this a huge risk, letting us stay here?" she asked, although she did not know what kind of answer she was expecting. Was she trying to talk the woman out of trusting her?

"I don't think you had any part in killing the king," Arnu replied. "Call it a hunch or whatever. You just don't seem unscrupulous enough."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." It seemed like a strange compliment to make, but she sounded sincere. "For everything. I didn't expect anybody here to actually trust a Gerudo."

Arnu smiled knowingly. "Well, for what it's worth... I am a Sheikah, you know."

"And...?" Koume did not understand her meaning.

"What? You don't know about... oh." Arnu hesitated and was lost in thought for a few moments. "Hm, maybe that's just as well," she finally said.

"What?" Now Koume was curious.

"This is not a good time for a history lesson. Just ask your elders."

"Our elders don't like us very much."

"Then ask them _nicely_. Sometimes, that makes all the difference." Arnu smiled. "That's enough sage advice for one day." She walked toward the door, opened it, then turned around one last time before leaving. "Don't get into trouble. For all our sakes."

"We... we'll try our best," Koume stuttered, knowing full well that she and her sister always seemed to find trouble. Or perhaps trouble was finding them.

"My, doesn't that sound reassuring," Arnu sighed, left the room and closed the door behind her. Koume promptly exhaled an overly long breath and silently thanked the powers that were for the old woman's aid. Her desperate gamble had paid off, after all.

_She really isn't a bad person. Maybe she would have helped me even without that ocarina. _

A sudden onset of fatigue overcame Koume, who had not slept much during the last three days, watching over her sister when she had not been sneaking through the Keep looking for a way to save her. Perhaps now she could get finally get some well-deserved rest, so she would be ready to escape from the Keep once Kotake was well enough to walk. She trusted Arnu, at least for the moment, but even so, they were still at risk of being discovered by accident any day, and she would rather not push their luck. After all, it had been pretty generous of late.

_Wait, what am I thinking? If barely scraping past capture or death several times is lucky, then I don't even want to know what unlucky would be like. My standards have become really low._

Yawning, Koume walked past her sister, picked up the moth-eaten blanket that constituted her bed and put it down next to Kotake, sweeping the countless tiny crystal fragments away with her foot. Then she lay down on the blanket and put her hand to her sister's forehead; and for the first time in two days, her temperature was normal. Her breath was steady as well, and, satisfied with her condition, Koume wrapped the blanket around her body as best as she could and closed her eyes.

_Things really have to get worse before they get better_, she thought, and fell asleep before she knew it.


	23. Confronting His Shadow

**Chapter 23: Confronting His Shadow**

"Preparations are complete, your highness. The ritual can begin at any time."

"Very good, Callach," Darion said. "Let's begin, then." He followed the young Sheikah Sage into the hidden chamber behind the throne, where he had been busy preparing whatever he needed to prepare for the ritual. Darion was not much interested in the specifics – he knew nothing about magic, having never been allowed to learn about it, and any explanations Callach might provide were bound to fall on deaf ears. He was fine with that: As long as he got the results he wanted, he preferred a hands-off approach and let his servants do their tasks without their lord nosing around and questioning every little thing. This was the same reason he had not taken the army to Death Mountain himself – although he had considered it – but left the task to his three generals instead.

_A king cannot manage everything his subjects do,_ he recalled the words his father had once spoken, _or he will undermine their confidence and overwork himself. Picking competent servants is one of the most important aspects of being a good ruler._

Callach certainly was competent enough, or else he would not have become the youngest sage in recorded Hylian history, but Darion had chosen him for this peculiar and delicate task for reasons other than that: He was the only Sheikah among the sages, except for Arnu, whom he did most definitely not want to involve. Callach was always eager in his desire to serve, so he could be expected to be discreet about the whole enterprise.

_"An enterprise which is doomed to failure. Come on, Darion, you're wasting your time. I'm here to stay, and this little sycophant won't be able to change that."_

_Yes, you would say that,_ Darion responded to the derisive voice in his head. _You are afraid, aren't you? Afraid that it'll work, and that your unwanted stay in my mind will come to its overdue end_._ And you should be._

After five days of being 'possessed' by Malark's spirit, Darion had learned not to answer him in words, but in thoughts, which went a long ways of silencing the voices who were concerned about the prince talking to himself. And after this ritual, he would be rid of him forever.

"Please take a seat. Anywhere, it matters not," Callach said and closed the door to the former king's, and now his son's, private chambers. The room was dark, illuminated only by a single candle on a desk; the lone windows had been draped with heavy curtains, and not a single ray of light penetrated them.

"I'll put out the candle now," the young sage said once Darion had sat down on a chair, foregoing the comfortable couch his father had come to prefer in his last years. Darion nodded and Callach did as announced, and the room turned pitch dark.

"Darkness is not absolutely necessary," he said apologetically, "but it is believed to help the possessed one to focus."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Darion said. "And you don't have to explain the details. Just begin."

_"It won't work, you will fail. It won't work, you will fail..."_

_You are reduced to a nagging ghost, Malark. Pathetic. Is that how you want to waste your last minutes in this world?_

_"I'm merely stating the facts. You'll see."_

"As you wish, your majesty. No unnecessary details. But there is one important thing you must know before we begin."

"Go ahead."

"Ahem." Callach cleared his throat, and Darion heard the sage take a seat opposite to him. "As I told you after you approached me, your current... uh, malady is in fact a type of ancient Sheikah magic, known only to a few, such as the late... ah, never mind."

Darion had never told Callach whose spirit it was that was haunting him, but the young sage was not stupid and could easily put two and two together. "Anyway, it was used rarely, and only voluntarily, as a means to preserve the knowledge and experience of the wisest members of our tribe. They would live on in the minds of trusted friends or kinsfolk as shadows of their former selves. Hence, Shadow People."

Darion silently wondered how anybody could possibly welcome the intrusive presence of a dead man in their minds. On the other hand, Malark was particularly insufferable, so maybe it was not too bad, depending on the disposition of the 'shadow'.

"There were, however, a few cases of involuntary possession," Callach continued. "This was considered a grave crime and brought great shame on the one who invaded an unwilling mind, so their relatives tried to keep it a secret. Fortunately for us, there are a small number of documented cases of possession, followed by attempts to exorcise the unwanted spirit. Most of them succeeded, and the ghosts ceased to exist." He hesitated to continue.

"But some attempts failed," Darion said, "and the victims had to live with their ghosts until they died. Correct?"

"If only it had been that. No, the victims did not die. Instead, their personalities vanished, and they were completely taken over by the respective ghosts who had possessed them."

_"A chilling prospect, isn't it? Do you still want to go along with the ritual?"_

_Why didn't you tell me that before, if only to frighten me?_

_"You wouldn't have believed me."_

_No. I wouldn't._

"How did this happen?" Darion asked Callach.

"The ritual of exorcism is essentially a confrontation between the victim and the spirit that possesses him, which takes place within the victim's mind. Those unfortunate few must have lost that confrontation."

Darion shivered. "That sounds horrible." Malark's mere presence was bad enough – the thought of losing control to that malicious ghost was beyond imagining.

"It is," Callach said sympathetically. "You see, if a man is weak-minded – or if it is done consensually – the shadow can take control of its host's body for any given timespan. Your... shadow probably never even tried that. After all, your majesty is not weak-willed by any measure."

_"Sycophant."_

"At any rate, the same thing happened to the less lucky victims, except permanently. Every time it happened, the Sheikah elders of that time tried to restore the original personality, but it was never any good. The victims were lost forever."

"How did they deal with the ghosts that now had new bodies?" Darion asked

"They were thrown into the deepest pit of the Shadow Temple, never to be seen again," Callach answered after a moment's hesitation. "The Sheikah of old considered them demons, and concluded that they had no right to exist."

"And they were absolutely correct," Darion growled. "This kind of possession goes beyond any crime I can think of."

_"Of course you'd say that. You're biased."_

Ignoring Malark's nagging voice, Darion realized the reason for Callach's hesitation and obvious discomfort: He was afraid that the same could happen to him, and that he might lose his prince and face the wrath of Malark.

"Do not worry, Callach," he said. "I do not know what this 'confrontation' will entail, but I will not lose to him. I will not lose myself."

"That's good to hear, your highness. Very good. In that case, I can begin the ritual whenever you're ready."

"I am ready now," Darion said, confident of his ability to drive out Malark, no matter what. "Begin."

_"You're making a great mistake, Darion!"_

_Shut up._

_"Make me!"_

_I intend to._

Callach began to chant in what Darion recognized as the ancient language of the Sheikah, clapping with his hands in regular intervals. It sounded rather stupid to him; but then again, Callach presumably knew what he was doing, while Darion had no clue about magic.

Unbidden childhood memories surfaced; memories of Zelda trying to teach him how to light a candle with a basic fire spell. The Crown Prince was forbidden by law to learn magic, but neither Darion nor Zelda had had much concern for that law when they had been twelve and eight years old, respectively. But no matter how often Zelda had tried to explain the concept of 'focus' to her older brother, and no matter how hard he had tried, Darion had been unable to conjure up as much as a spark, until he had finally given up and fled from the room in frustration, telling himself that swords were more reliable than magic anyway.

_If Zelda was still alive... no, if she was still around, she'd be here in Callach's stead, I'm certain of it. She was so knowledgeable about everything, she would have... ah, damn it, I can't think of her right now. I can't afford to be distracted when I face Malark._

Callach's chant ended, and silence fell over the dark room, not even disturbed by a snarky remark from Malark. Just as Darion was about to ask whether something was wrong, a faint light appeared in the distance, far beyond the confines of his private chambers. It quickly became brighter – or was it coming closer? – and Darion had to cover his eyes with his hands. Then, with a strange sound like the whirring of an oversized bee, the light engulfed him, and then vanished. It was all very disorienting.

_What did I expect? It's magic, after all._

Darion found himself on a wide, empty plain under a grey sky. There was nothing and no one to be seen except himself.

"Callach?" he shouted. "Hello?" But there was no answer. "I suppose you can't hear me," Darion muttered, and assumed the ritual had worked. He was now inside his own mind, as Callach had put it.

_It's a pretty empty mind. Wait, what am I saying?_

As if something was reacting to his thoughts, several shapes began to take form all around him. The Keep, or at least something resembling it, suddenly loomed at the horizon, far larger than it was in reality. A crowd of people like he would find on Keeptown's main square on market day appeared a stone's throw away from him, chattering and murmuring and paying no heed to the prince or their strange surroundings. Then he saw a small pile of what looked like bodies in the opposite direction, and a sword – no, _his_ sword – stuck in the ground next to them. Finally, the familiar shape of the Triforce, multiple times its true size, appeared in the sky above him, far out of his reach, bathing everything in golden light.

_I guess this is supposed to be representative of my thoughts? Of the things I consider important?That's all nice and good, but where is Malark?_

During the last several days, the dead wizard had always spoken when Darion had least wanted to hear him, probably in order to annoy him. Now that he wanted to face him in order to drive him out, he was nowhere to be found, and made no comments at all.

_Of course not. He's afraid of what'll happen if I find him, so he's hiding. He's many things, but not stupid._

"Well," Darion said to himself, "I'll just have to look for him, then." He considered checking the crowd of people who were still oblivious to his presence, but decided to get his sword first – or the representation of his sword, but as long as its edge was sharp, that would amount to the same thing. After all, the confrontation with Malark might very well be of a violent nature, so he had best be prepared.

Darion crossed the short distance and easily pulled the sword out of the ground and wiped the blade clean from the sticky soil. He had been correct in his initial appraisal: It was the same sword he had received for his thirteenth birthday (it had been a tad too long and heavy back then) and used ever since. The blade was well-balanced and sturdy, and the handle finely-wrought, though not adorned with gemstones or carvings: His teacher had emphasized the importance of function over form, especially when one's own safety was concerned. Although he had never perceived it as an 'extension of his arm', as his early teachers had somewhat esoterically put it, it had served him well in many a skirmish against monsters, and that was really all he expected from it.

_I wasn't carrying the sword on me during the ritual, but it's still here. Maybe I have to carve up a representation of Malark. Now that would be satisfying._

Darion sheathed his sword and turned around in order to walk over to the small crowd of people, when the bodies piled up nearby caught his eye. There was something unsettling about them. Something familiar.

_I know this dress. And that crown. Gods, can it be?_

Darion dreaded take a closer look at the motionless bodies, but he knew he had to. He quickly made his way to them, knelt down, and found his fears confirmed. There were three bodies piled on top of each other, and he knew their faces well. He wanted to look away, but found that he could not.

_Why are you here? Why? When I'm trying my best to forget about you..._

Lowest in the pile was the corpse of his mother. The once beautiful face of the late queen, still young when compared to her aged husband, marred almost beyond recognition by black plaguespots and pustules – the same way she had looked when he had last seen her, hours before her death.

Square across her waist lay his father with his head down, but his golden crown and sparse white hair as well as his royal robes made him easy to identify. Darion would have loved to say that they looked like they were locked in an embrace, but they had simply been thrown over each other without care for their dignity.

And on top of her parents lay the body of his sister, as lifeless as the others, her even face that looked so much like her mother's turned into a grimace of pain and exhaustion, her small hands bound by chains of iron – Darion's own handiwork and painful reminder of the role he had played in reducing her to this terrible state.

"Why are you here?" he whispered. "What is the meaning behind all this?" He noticed that Zelda's chest rose and fell steadily, proof that she was still alive, although caught in an eternal sleep.

"You don't belong here! You're not dead!"

He lifted her up from his father's body, one hand beneath her neck to support her head. He had not carried her ever since she had grown out of childhood and found her lighter than expected. But where was he going to take her? What was he trying to accomplish?

_This isn't really her. She's just an illusion. The real her is safely hidden away with the North Garrison._

But in spite of this knowledge, Darion did not want to let go of her. It was just as he had told Arnu: Faced with the grim reminder of what he and Malark had done to Zelda, reason gave way to despair, and he felt that putting her down would mean abandoning her, even though there was nothing he could do for her – and she was not even the real her.

_But this is not why I'm here,_ he remembered as he aimlessly walked across the grey plain, carrying Zelda with him. _What was I trying to do? I don't remember... I'm not thinking clearly._

Something suddenly hit him from behind with great force, and burning pain erupted in his back. Darion screamed in agony and, in spite of his resolution not to abandon her, let go of Zelda and tumbled forward, falling over her to the ground. He had been trained to suppress pain, at least to the extent of what was considered possible, but the sheer surprise made it very difficult. Harnessing every bit of self-discipline, Darion struggled back to his feet and was grateful to feel the pain recede. An orb of fire hit the ground right next to him and showered his leg with sparks, prompting him to turn around and face the source of the fiery missiles.

It was only because of his momentary confusion that he was surprised to see Malark standing fifteen feet behind him, wearing his usual attire from back when he was alive. He was grinning gleefully and already forming another fireball between his palms.

"I must thank you for the opportunity to feel my body again, even if it's only a construct," he shouted. "Now I can finally say farewell to this old sack of flesh and bones. It served me well enough, but I'm looking forward to command your young and healthy body after I've roasted you!" He launched the third fireball at Darion, who only avoided it by clumsily dropping to the ground again.

_I have to lure him away from Zelda! _was the first thought that crossed his mind, and after getting up again, he dashed off to his right side, drawing his sword as he ran, and circled around Malark while keeping his distance.

"Stop running, you're making it hard for me to hit you!" the ghost of the wizard complained and a new spark appeared between his hands, quickly growing to another fireball which he sent toward Darion, missing again. If he had even noticed Zelda's sleeping body, he was paying her no further attention, in spite of Darion's thoughts centering around her.

_That could mean he can't hear my thoughts while we're in here!_

"So this was your goal all along, wasn't it?" Darion yelled. "You wanted me to arrange for the ritual, and your discouragements were just feints. You think you have me right where you want me."

"So you finally get it, your highness," Malark mocked and launched another fireball. "You were always a bit slow." The magic missile whizzed past Darion who jumped aside, dodging it easily.

_They're moving too slow to hit me, as long as I pay attention_, Darion realized. _But I have to get close to him to cut him down, and that will make me an easier target. What to do...  
_"It was your sister who got me killed, so it is only fair that you make amends for her and provide me with a new body. Or did you think I'd be content with being a disembodied voice in your head forever?" Malark launched several more fireballs at the prince, not visibly dismayed by the fact that he avoided them all. On the contrary: He was cackling and grinning and obviously happy about inhabiting something akin to a body again.

_It takes about two seconds for the spark to grow to a full fireball_, Darion observed, calm once more after the painful surprise attack. As with any battle to the death, it was imperative that he kept this calm. _If I wait after he sends it flying and rush him, I should be able to reach him in time._

Another fiery orb missed Darion, which gave him the opportunity to put his plan into operation. Holding his sword in front of his face, just in case he was too slow, he dashed toward Malark while the wizard was powering up his next fireball. He crossed the distance between them just in time, but before he could run him through with his blade, Malark grinned, moved his hand slightly, which caused the growing fireball to dissipate – and vanished from Darion's sight.

_He's teleporting! Damn it... but I should have known he would use tricks like this!_

Darion hastily looked around and saw Malark, now standing behind him at the same distance as before, already conjuring a new fireball.

"You can't do this forever!" Darion shouted and jumped aside to avoid getting burned. "I know using magic takes its toll on the body, and yours is old and decrepit!"

"But who is to say that the normal limits of endurance even apply in this place?" the wizard's voice carried over to Darion. "Either way, I have no intention of dragging this out too long."

"Then you have to come up with something better than this!"

Malark laughed. "As you wish, your highness." He spread his arms and unleashed a circular shockwave, made visible only by the soil it threw into the air. Darion could neither dodge nor sidestep it and was thrown off his feet. Before he could get up, Malark teleported right in front of him and kicked him in the groin, with far more strength than he would have expected.

"My tutor taught me never to rely on magic alone," he jeered, and kicked again. "It seems he wasn't completely wrong."

Darion winced and his sight turned black for a second, so he blindly waved his sword over his head in an attempt to make his enemy back off. He only cut the air, but when his eyesight returned a moment later Malark was standing five feet away from him, his arms raised, his hands glowing in a yellow light.

_That dirty bastard! I have to end this quickly, or–_

Darion was halfway back on his feet when the lightning hit him. His muscles immediately went limp, sending him back to the ground again, and his nerves screamed out in agony as they were familiarized with an all-encompassing pain unlike any other in his life. His limbs spasmed and twitched, and the only reason he did not let go of his sword was because an onset of convulsions clenched his fist tightly around the handle. The pain lasted for several seconds, then stopped immediately, leaving only a numb soreness in his limbs and torso. But at least he could move again.

"This spell was banned by the ancient Sheikah, back before they became slaves to the Hylians," Malark informed him in a professorial tone as the yellow light gathered again around his fingertips, no doubt charging energy for a second round. "Even though they were admirably unscrupulous, few of them had the stomach to watch their victims wreathe in agony." He smiled. "Unfortunately for you, I'm of a hardier breed."

A second volley of lightning shot out from the wizard's hands, and Darion raised his sword just in time in the hope of deflecting it, or perhaps even throwing it back at its caster. But he had no such luck. Instead, the lightning concentrated on the tip of the sword, then traveled down the blade and through the handle into Darion's body, causing a paroxysm of pain every bit as bad as the one before.

"You would fend off lightning with a sword made of iron?" Malark did not try to hide his amusement. "Now I see why you didn't get the Triforce of Wisdom! Not that the Triforce of Power seems to avail you much! Proof that it is wasted on you, if you can't even beat someone as 'old and decrepit' as me."

_I can't take this much longer! _Darion had no attention to spend on the wizard's taunts; it took all his concentration to keep his thoughts half-way coherent. _I have to think of something... I can't let him beat me! If he gains command over my body, Hyrule will be at his mercy._

_Perhaps this was a foolish endeavour..._

Even though the odds seemed stacked against him, Darion was not one to give up easily, or take a beating like this lying down. Once the second volley of lightning had ebbed off, he gathered all his strength and jumped to his feet, and, although his legs were shaking, remained standing. For about a second only, when the third lightning wave hit him in the chest and literally sent him flying. He hit his head hard on the grassless earth, but not hard enough to pass out. Once more his pained screams rent the air as the lightning enveloped his body and made him feel as if he was being flayed alive, although a remote part of him noticed that the terrible magic was causing no visible wounds.

"You're not taking it well, my prince," Malark said with mock concern in his voice. "Just as Zelda when she went through the same pain."

"Don't... even mention her name, you... monster!" Darion gasped between jolts of pain.

"I am the monster?" Malark giggled like a young girl; a noise that sounded particularly absurd coming from him. "That's rich. Darion, you glorious hypocrite, did you forget on whose orders I tortured her?"

_Of course I didn't forget, and I never will! But that doesn't give you the right to gloat! It was necessary – I had to – for Hyrule's sake..._

"ARGH!" Another wave of lightning, perhaps worse than those before, perhaps less so. Darion could not tell the difference anymore.

"Do you like the taste of your own medicine – or rather, the medicine you prescribed?" Malark screamed triumphantly. "Consider it poetic justice. All Hylians will learn the meaning of this concept once I'm done with you and reunite the Triforce! Slavery and worse await them once we Sheikah are ascendant!"

Malark was finally revealing his true agenda, but Darion did not take more than passing notice; all he could do was keep his thoughts together, to try and preserve his sanity against the unrelenting onslaught of pain that threatened to unhinge his mind.

_So this is what I've done to Zelda... perhaps Malark is right. Perhaps I really deserve this._

Without warning, blackness engulfed him, and Darion expected to have seen the last of this or any other world. But his consciousness did not fade, and he still felt his body whose poise had somehow changed from lying to sitting.

_At least the pain is gone, so this isn't too bad. But where am I?_

He tried to move his tortured body, which translated into a sluggish half-movement, and he promptly fell off whatever he was sitting on to the floor.

_Feels like... a carpet?_

Darion heard the sound of heavy cloth being dragged, and sunlight erupted in the room.

_The room?_

"Your highness, are you all right?" Darion knew that voice, although it took him a moment to recognize it.

_Callach. That means... I'm back._

The young Sheikah sage returned from the window and helped his prince drag himself on the nearby couch, then poured him a glass of water. Darion snatched it from him with shaking hands and, spilling parts of it, emptied it with a single greedy draught.

"I am... not all right," Darion croaked. "Absolutely not. But I'm alive, as you can see."

"I'm so relieved," Callach said, and actually sounded genuine. "I spoke the formula to bring you back because of your screams! I feared you were about to die. Punish me if you will, but the thought of losing you, too, was unbearable."

_"So your real body screamed, too? It must have been pretty bad if it roused Callach to independent action. That impudent idiot ruined everything!"_

The prince took a tiny bit of solace from Malark's unmistakable frustration. Callach's actions had prevented his victory and forced a stalemate.

_"That was no stalemate, I was trouncing you!"_

_Perhaps you should have finished me off then, and not wasted your time on torture, you vile sadist. But you won't get another chance, because I know your bag of tricks now. I'll have Callach repeat the ritual at once, and I'll finish you off right then!_

_"Believe me, Darion, I would love nothing more than see you try," _Malark snarled. _"But it's impossible. This ritual only works once on a person."_

_What? How would you know?_

_"Inconclusive confrontations have happened before, and any further attempts at the ritual had no effect. The ones possessed had to bear with their ghost for the rest of their days, and though they were allowed to live, encountered distrust and suspicion whereever they went. Nice prospects, eh, Darion?"_

Living out the rest of his life with Malark in his head was not a result Darion could accept.

_You're lying!_

_"Bah, if only. Ask Callach if you don't believe me."_

"Ahem." As if he had heard Malark's mention of his name (which he absolutely, positively could not do, or at least Darion hoped), Callach cleared his throat and looked at his prince with narrow eyes. "I take it you couldn't defeat Mal... I mean, the shadow that's haunting you?"

"Ugh, spare me your feeble attempts at ignorance. You're not fooling anybody."

"So it is him," the young sage said with a mixture of fear and awe. "And he defeated you."

"I don't need you to repeat the obvious," Darion snarled. "Repeat the ritual at once!"

"I... I am afraid that is not possible, your highness," Callach said.

_"I told you so."_

"You're useless!" Darion shouted in frustration. "If you can't help me, then why are you here? I need rest now. Get out!"

"As you wish, your highness." Callach bowed and quickly left the prince's private chambers, almost tripping over his robes on his way out.

_"Well, I can't say I'm very happy about how things turned out," _Malark said with a casual air, _"but even if I couldn't take over your body, I'm here, and I'm here to stay. Eventually, you will accept that you can never get rid of me. Short of killing yourself, of course."_

_Maybe I'll do just that._

_"An empty threat if there ever was one. But please go ahead and prove me wrong."_

Angered by the dead wizard's incessant mockery, Darion leapt from the couch and tried to draw the sword he was no longer carrying – had never really carried to begin with. He cursed and let his eyes wander the room until he found a fruit knife lying next to a bowl of apples on a refreshment table. He briskly walked to the table, picked up the knife and put the blade against his throat.

_"This would certainly be a noble way to dispatch me,"_ Malark's voice said, apparently unfazed by his threat, _"if somewhat extreme. But you won't do it, not in a million years. You like living too much."_

Darion said nothing, clenched his teeth and considered what it would be like to die. Sure, the priests promised that the Goddesses took the dead to Heaven, but had anybody ever returned to confirm that? _I wanted to bring back father_, he remembered. _That would have answered my question, but I failed in that, too._

Perhaps the skeptics were right. Perhaps the only thing that followed death was oblivion. Even with all the regrets that weighed heavily on Darion's soul, he did not like that prospect one bit. He stood there for a minute, staring at the room's wall, until he made his decision and dropped the knife.

_I won't do it. Not because I'm afraid to die, but because I'm still needed. My brother and sister need me. Hyrule needs me._

_"Yeah, sure, tell yourself that."_

"Fine!" Darion shouted, momentarily relapsing into the habit of talking out loud to Malark, and kicked over the refreshment table, sending the red apples rolling on the carpet. "Fine, you can stay up there and talk, for the rest of my life if it can't be helped. But I won't listen to a single thing you have to say ever again."

_"Oh please. You'll listen to me when you think it's to your advantage, just as before. Anything else would be stupid."_

_"You expect me to believe anything you have to say after you tried to kill me?"_

_"You tried to kill me, too. And before you say 'you attacked first': It was your intention from the beginning to cast me into the void."_

_Of course it was! You have no right to exist in my body! You're a demon! No, less than that. You're a parasite. Your life is worth as much as that of a tapeworm afflicting a mangy dog._

_"Doesn't that make you the mangy dog in this allegory?"_

_Oh just shut up._

_"Only when I want to, Darion. Only when I want to."_

Darion struggled against a fit of rage, and lost. He picked up the knife from the carpet and thrust it into the toppled refreshment table, over and over again, in his mind substituting Malark's throat for the table. It helped a little bit.

_"Now that you've calmed down,"_ Malark said after Darion had put down the knife again, _"there's an important matter that needs addressing. Callach knows that his prince has a permanent, unwelcome guest in his head. How do you think he'll react to that? He looked pretty distraught."_

_I thought of that before, you know. He won't tell anybody without my leave. He's not the type for that._

_"Not if your plan had worked," _Malark said._ "But since it failed, he may be afraid that I'll take over one of these days. Maybe he'll talk to Arnu about his concerns, and won't she be delighted to learn that I'm still around."_

That was something Darion had to avoid at all costs. Arnu was not one to dabble in politics unless she had to, spending most of her time on magical and scientific studies, but if there was anything that would call her to action, it would be the knowledge that her private enemy was still alive in some form.

_"There is a very easy way to make sure he won't tell her," _Malark's oily voice sounded in his mind. Darion violently shook his head.

_No. Just no. This is not going to work, Malark. You won't get me to kill him. I'm not that unscrupulous._

_"Aren't you? What about that poor, innocent Goron whom you wanted to kill? He didn't try to assassinate you at all. And think of his kinsmen who are being slaughtered right now, at your orders. You are _already_ that unscrupulous."_

_That's different! It's about the Triforce. Once I have that, I'll never have to stoop that low again!_

_"But until then, you have to resort to conventional means. Come on, do it. Arrange a nice little accident. I won't tell, I promise. In fact, I'll give you tips."_

_You are a sick, depraved mind._

_"Takes one to know one."_

But as much as Darion hated to admit it, Malark had a point. If Callach told Arnu, or anyone else, for that matter, questions would be asked. His suitability as ruler would be called into question along with his mental health. The sages might try to press him into abdicating, at the threat of disclosing his 'condition' to the whole world.

_That must not be allowed to happen,_ Darion thought as he left his private chambers and returned to the throne room where he sat down on his rightful seat. _And it's not like anybody would miss that little sycophant, anyway..._


	24. The Laws Fall Silent

**Chapter 24: The Laws Fall Silent**

As long as anybody could remember, Zora children used to treat Lord Jabu-Jabu with a casualness that bordered on irreverence, often trying to feed the mighty fish god in an attempt to sneak into his spacious belly. Jabu-Jabu himself did not take offence, and so the small pool at Zora's Fountain where he had taken up residence centuries ago had become the favourite playground for young children. Narala wistfully watched her daughter and her friends clumsily trying to climb the slippery back of the fish god, who stoically suffered it as he always did, and remembered her own childhood which seemed so long ago now, although the queen was merely thirty years old.

_Things haven't changed a bit since then, at least not in Zora's Fountain. When Nari has children one day, they'll play here, too._

_Unless the fires of war reach this place and destroy it. But I won't let that happen._

Whenever Narala tried to relax, concerns about her people's future relentlessly pursued her, and this small break, the first she had afforded herself today, was no different. The few friends she confided in often told her that she was too tense, too anxious, even when considering her responsibilities, and she was self-aware enough to agree with them – not that this awareness changed anything. But today was different: Today, the Zora were at war, and their future hung in a state of uncertainty that vexed Narala to no end.

_It's no good_, she told herself. _Instead of pretending that I'm relaxing, I might as well get some work done._

Narala waved to her daughter, who casually waved back, used to not seeing much of her mother, and entered the passageway connecting Jabu-Jabu's pool with Zora's Domain proper. She almost collided with a young guard hurrying in the opposite direction.

"My queen," he said after coming to an abrupt stop inches before her, "we have received a message from the troops near Kakariko. They report that a phalanx of armoured knights blocks the way to Death Mountain."

"That's what I feared," Narala nodded. „They're protecting their flank well."

"The commander tried to lure them away, as per your orders, but did not succeed. Once our troops came into spear throwing range, the knights charged at them and forced them to retreat, then returned to their original position. Their horses allow them to keep us at a distance without straying too far from Kakariko."

"Our men did not attack head-on?" she asked, just to make sure

"No, my queen. Your orders regarding that were very clear."

Relieved that her soldiers had not engaged in a battle they could not hope to win, the Zora Queen considered her options. Her people were not very skilled in what some called the ‚art of war' (Narala could only sneer at that term), and had maintained their alliance with the Gorons largely for their own protection. But now that their allies were in grave danger, they had to lend them what little aid they could give – especially since the reasons behind this war were not as mundane as those behind past wars. She recalled the message Kokron had sent after returning to Death Mountain:

'_The prince is insane, and Zelda is pretty much dead. He is ready to kill to get his hands on the Triforce. We must prepare for war.'_

And so she had prepared, and placed the small force of men-at-arms that the Zora employed in a state of alert, sending all but the royal guard to Death Mountain. But she now saw that sending the lightly-armoured and inexperienced soldiers against mounted knights in the open field would be suicide, and do the besieged Gorons no good at all. As far as Narala could tell, there were no viable military options. She ordered to have the messenger return immediately and recall the soldiers.

_The Gorons will think we abandoned them, but there's nothing we can do. And the longer our soldiers stay away from the water, the weaker they'll get._

The guard saluted and ran off to relay her orders, and Narala was left alone in the ill-lit tunnel leading to the back of her throne room. A golden light emanated from her right hand, reminding her of the strange object of supposedly divine origins that resided within her body.

_What good does this thing do me? If it has any divine wisdom to dispense, I would hear it now!_

But the voice that had spoken to her back then and named her ‚chosen by destiny' did not talk again, did not impart any actual wisdom on her. Perhaps the separate pieces did not give any additional abilities at all; perhaps they merely amplified the bearer's strengths. Right now, Narala was feeling very helpless, so there was not much to amplify.

_And its full divine power is only unlocked when the three pieces are brought together. I can only hope Darion will never learn that I carry part of it. Kokron, at least, would rather die than tell him that – if I judged him correctly._

At a loss what to do, Narala made her way back to the throne room, where she sat down and pondered possible courses of action. She encouraged her advisors to speak up and offer her new options, but nothing came of it. Her frustration grew, and was soon tinged by anger. Anger that a greedy, selfish man like Darion would abandon all precepts of justice to satisfy his own ambition. His decision to shatter the peace that Hyrule had enjoyed for decades was proof that he would stop at nothing to get his hands on the Triforce.

_Then perhaps I, too, must stop at nothing in order to prevent that from happening._

An idea formed in her mind – a terrible, yet promising idea. The Hylians had brought the greater part of their army to Death Mountain, well aware of the difficulty of assaulting a high place like this. There could not be many soldiers remaining in Keeptown...

_We have to strike them where they are weakest. Not at the polished plates of their armour, but at the soft flesh of their unprotected backs._

Chilled by the implications of her idea, Narala hesitated. Was this truly something she could do? Something she could live with?

_We cannot let the power of the gods fall into the hands of a madman. There's no telling what he'd do with it. If the death of few in the present can prevent the death of many in the future, than this it how it shall be._

There was no time to lose. Firm in her resolve, Narala called in a fresh messenger and told him to hurry to the army and relay her new orders.

"What will those orders be, oh queen?"

"The commander is not to return to Zora's Domain at this time. Instead, he will take the men and swim down Zora River to the point where it is closest to Keeptown. I want them to march the rest of the way, and attack the city."

The messenger's eyes widened in surprise.

"Forgive me if I am speaking out of line, but how could they possibly take the Keep? Our entire army would not be able to. It's the heaviest fortification-"

"I'm not asking them to take the Keep," Narala interrupted him, recognizing the need to further clarify her orders. "When I said 'attack the city', I meant the city. I want them to set it ablaze."

"But... we..." The messenger gulped. "As you command. I'll be on my way."

"Wait!" Narala stopped him. Her royal couriers were nothing if not reliable, but even one of them might be stirred by his conscience to disobey, which would ruin everything. Any doubts the man harboured had to be stamped out now, before he left. She tried not to sound threatening when she asked: "Do you have a problem with relaying that order?"

"A problem... I..." The man hesitated, perhaps not entirely sure whether or not he had a problem with it. Or whether it was wise to voice his doubts. This was one of the most fundamental dilemmas of exercising authority, Narala had learned years ago: On the one hand, a ruler needed her subordinates to do what they were told, especially if the situation was dire, and time was of the essence. On the other hand, nobody was perfect in their reasoning, not even her, and blind or even fearful obedience without questioning could easily lead a kingdom to ruin.

_Perhaps it was the same way with Darion, when he ordered the attack on Death Mountain. Although I recall the King of Hyrule not having the authority to make this kind of decision alone, so his advisors must have agreed._

_I wonder what Arnu's opinion was._

"You are the queen," the messenger said after a short while. "I know you would never give an order like this without good reason. I shall trust you."

_See, all wrong._

"You need not trust me," Narala set him straight. "Follow my reasoning instead. If we set his hometown on fire, Darion will recall his army to defend it against further incursions, assuming he has any sense of obligation toward his subjects. That will buy us time to unite with the Gorons and form a strategy to take the Keep, so we can call the prince to account."

She listened to herself as to a stranger, and found her own rationale quite sound. Of course it was also despicable, but she had learned to keep a wide moat between her logic and her emotions.

_I just never thought it would be this wide..._

"I see," the messenger said after some hesitation, clearly uncomfortable with discussing strategy with the queen . "Since we cannot harm their soldiers, and cannot afford to do nothing, it follows that we must cause harm to the people. I understand your decision now." He bowed. "You need not worry. I will deliver your orders without fail."

_So he understood my concerns. It is good to have competent subordinates. And it's not like I don't share his moral qualms, but the Triforce simply poses too great a threat for us to do nothing. Artaxis once used it to wipe out an entire army... who knows what his son might do with it?_

"Caution the commander that he will still encounter resistance," she said, "be it from a local garrison, militia, or even the Keep's guards. He is not to engage in a battle he cannot win. The objective is to cause great damage and then retreat back to our own territory."

The courier nodded firmly. "As you command. I will leave immediately." He bowed and hurried toward the exit, but hesitated before he reached it. He turned around and asked: "How shall they deal with civilians who fight back?"

"If they fight back, they are not civilians," Narala replied coldly. In order to prevent an outright massacre, she added: "But they are not to kill anyone who offers them no harm. If the pleas of his unhomed people cannot move Darion, then nothing will."

"You speak wisely, my queen," the messenger said, "as you always do," and left the throne room. Left Narala to think about the farmers and craftsmen and traders who would soon die defending their homes. If the fires spread fast enough, even children might die. Children like Nari.

_I can still call him back_, the thought, but she did not do so.

_Now if only the Gorons can hold their ground long enough for us to make a difference. Death Mountain will not fall easily, but the Hylians' martial prowess cannot be underestimated. Let alone their accursed magic._

_I hope Kokron is all right._

_

* * *

_Kokron had always preferred single combat or at least small melees over clashes between large forces, because on a densely-packed battlefield, he was unable to swing his weapon as freely as he wanted, lest he hit a comrade by accident. By the same token, a single stray arrow or spear could easily end his life, swiftly and unglamorously, without giving him a chance to meet his attacker. But worst of all was that in the tales yet to be spun about today's battle, his heroic deeds would be drowned among the praise heaved upon the army as a whole once they were victorious. Not that he begrudged his fellow Gorons their due bit of fame, but still.

The only way to prevent this was, of course, to strike down as many Hylians as possible, and Kokron threw his full weight in doing just that. So far his kill count measured nine men (he was very conscientious about it and did not count the one soldier whom he had knocked off his feet with a glancing blow, only to see his skull bashed in by another's club).

He had tried several times to fight his way to the enemy general, whose golden helmet made him stand out among his fellows, because killing him would forever link Kokron's name with the coming victory. But the tides of battle had not swept him this way, and his hunger for fame did not make Kokron blind to danger: Breaking formation to chase after a single target would have been suicidal even for him.

Instead, he contended himself with trying to kill number ten, a large goateed Hylian whose lance, by an enemy's hand or his own, had been broken in half, turning it into a short spear of sorts which he wielded with considerable skill, aiming at Kokron's limbs instead of his sturdy chest armour. Without much room to move or swing, Kokron clumsily parried his jabs with his mace, getting only a single blow in which was blocked handily by his enemy's shield.

_I should have taken the Megaton Hammer from the temple. That thing packs more of a punch than this measly mace. Why didn't I think of that earlier?_

Whatever threat the Hylian soldier might have posed to Kokron was quickly taken care of when the warrior fighting next to him took his weapon arm clean off with a strike of his axe. The man screamed in shock and pain and let his shield go, clutching the bleeding stump below his elbow. With a blow to the neck, Kokron put him out of his misery, grunting a quick thanks to the axe-wielding Goron at his right side, although he was sure that he could have beaten his opponent on his own, given some time.

_No point in being finnicky about this. There are more than enough enemies to kill for everyone._

For a few short moment's, his opponent's death opened a gap in the enemy's formation, beckoning Kokron to advance through it and become enclosed. Deaf to its call, he used the short break until another soldier had advanced from the ranks to look around and oversee the situation.

Right now, the two armies were locked in combat at the upper end of Death Mountain Trail, in the shadow of the mountain's steep face which was the only way into Goron City. The trail widened considerably here, giving the opposing forces enough room to fully spread out and engage each other across a long line that slowly ebbed back and forth, and Kokron was right in the centre of it.

The defenders had abandoned their position on the high ground as soon as the Hylians had reached this point to prevent them from climbing the mountain, which would put them dangerously close to the city entrance. Since dropping rocks and even bomb flowers on the invaders had proven completely useless thanks to their magic shield, the only way to stop them was to physically block their path. Spurred by the rhythmic beats of battle drums and the knowledge that they were the only ones standing between the invaders and their home, the Gorons were putting up an inspired defence and had so far been able to avoid a breach in their lines.

_If they knew that the one they're looking for is right here, fighting them... why, they'd be all over me._

But Kokron did not fear being recognized: His Triforce Mark was covered with a bandage over his right hand, and even though he had been permitted to speak to the enemy army before the battle, the Hylians were unlikely to recognize him: To them, all Gorons looked the same. But of course the opposite was true as well.

_And so we stab and bash each other, faceless soldier against faceless soldier. And all because of that idiotic prince who just had to-_

A short series of explosions rocked the ground somewhere to Kokron's right, at the far side of the trail, followed by shouts from both Gorons and Hylians. Most could not just turn around and see for themselves what had happened, but Kokron was an exception. Somehow, the battle line had swashed past him by while he had enjoyed his short break, and he found another Goron warrior in his place, blocking access to the battlefield for the moment.

_Oh well, I might just as well check what's going on there. Wasn't that where they were keeping the bombs?_

After descending on the trail, the defenders had started hurling explosives manufactured from mature bomb flowers at the Hylian army. The bombs rolled over the invisible shield above their heads and exploded harmlessly behind them, but at least the enemy wizards were kept occupied this way. Now, however, one of the carts filled with bombs had exploded; a chain reaction caused perhaps by a flaming arrow shot by the enemy. To their credit, the bomb handlers had been quick to react, Kokron saw as he approached the scene: They had pulled the other carts away from each other to prevent losing all the bombs. Plumes of thick smoke covered the scene of the explosion, making it difficult to assess the losses, but Kokron saw the outlines of at least a dozen Gorons lying lifeless on the ground.

_What a terrible way to die, not even knowing what killed you. If I have to go out, I want it to be-_

Kokron's ruminations on what a proper death in battle ought to be like were rudely interrupted when a band of Hylian soldiers charged through the small gap in the Gorons' defensive lines and through the smoke, toward the steep face of Death Mountain looming over them. Before any organized resistance could be mounted, they had reached the sheer face, sheathed their weapons and began climbing, while Kokron could only watch them in disbelief.

_These daredevils just leapt over the border between reckless and stupid. Don't they realize what will happen to them?_

Kokron's prediction proved right: After the initial confusion, the gap in the combat line was closed by Goron warriors, who rushed in to take the place of their fallen comrades. Other than the initial score of soldiers, no other Hylians were able to make it through. One last soldier managed to pass through the gap just before it was closed again, staving off two Gorons with his sword while running and shouting something about stupid maggots that were going to get themselves killed. Kokron might have been able to stop him if he had moved fast enough, but he was too caught up in the absurdity of the situation to react.

_Looks like some parts of the Hylian army have a problem with discipline. This is suicidal! What do they think they can accomplish alone up there? If they even manage to climb the mountain, that is._

Kokron considered simply leaving them alone and having the guards at the city entrance deal with them while he re-joined the battle, but he hesitated. Only a small number of warriors remained in Goron City itself, and if the zealous Hylians somehow managed to break through the entrance, even a small band like theirs would be free to wreak havoc among the city's inhabitants, many of whom neither owned a weapon nor knew how to use it. Also, King Grangus was in there, and although he was surrounded by capable bodyguards, Kokron decided he would rather be safe than sorry and warn the city before the Hylians arrived.

_They've got a bit of a head start,_ he thought as he watched the soldiers scaling the mountain's steep face. They were relying on the rough footholds the Gorons had kindly carved into the rock long ago to make it easier for visitors of inferior climbing-skills to reach their city.

_But they're so slow and clumsy, I could make it up and down again before they even reached the ledge. I'll beat them to it, easily._

The gears of war continued turning behind him, heedless of the small number of attackers who were trying to seize glory through recklessness. Kokron loathed leaving the battle behind, but he had made his decision to warn the city. If anybody was foolish enough to accuse him of cowardice after the fighting was over, he would be sure to make him shut up. He slung his mace over his back, backtracked along the rocks until he had found an easy route and began to scale the mountain.

Climbing came as natural to Gorons as swimming to Zora, and in spite of his considerable weight, Kokron nimbly made his way up, finding footholds with the trained ease of someone who had been climbing this mountaint for over thirty years, often competing with friends and rivals to see who would be faster.

_It's almost unfair. They don't have a chance against me._

Just as he passed the midpoint of his climb, surprised shouts from the Hylian climbers told Kokron that they had spotted him, but they were powerless to stop him: Even if they had carried bows or throwing weapons, there was no way they could have used them, clinging to the narrow gaps in the rock as they did. To their credit, he noted that they had not lost any of their number when he beat them to the ledge by a clear margin.

From here on it was only a few hundred yards to the entrance to Goron City, down a slightly sloped path. Kokron started running toward it, then curled up and rolled with rapid speed toward the entrance, knowing exactly from experience when to stop so as not to run over the sentinels guarding the entrance. They recognized him and asked about the course of the battle, and Kokron quickly told them about the approaching Hylians. He was dismayed that there were only two warriors guarding the entrance; apparently, King Grangus and his military advisors had full confidence in their warriors' ability to keep the Hylians from even coming here.

_And we would have, if not for that stupid accident... oh well, it happened._

"The three of us can't stop them alone," he said, although it would certainly make for a heroic attempt. But even Kokron, who by some had been described as a glutton for fame, would not throw his life away for a futile gesture, at least not as long as there were other options.

"Don't worry," the guard told him, "we are prepared for this. We've got a dozen warriors waiting inside just in case something like this happened. And we rigged the entrance to collapse so they'll get trapped inside."

Kokron was relieved to hear that the people in charge had not left the city completely undefended, and even though he considered traps of this sort beneath him, he was going to make an exception this time. "So we lay in wait for them inside? Sounds good. Let's go."

The three Gorons entered the wide tunnel leading into the city proper and united with the warriors the guard had mentioned. They extinguished most of the torches, confident that the near-darkness would work to the cave-dwellers' advantage, and the two guards took position next to two huge levers that would trigger the mechanism to collapse the entrance once the Hylians had entered.

_I wonder if they'll smell the trap. But judging from their zeal just now, they won't. That is, if they even make it here. Perhaps they all fell down..._

But before Kokron could suggest intercepting the attackers as they pulled themselves up the ledge and pushing them down again (it was probably too late for that by now, but the mental image made him smile), Hylians came charging down the path, some stupid battlecry on their lips. Judging from their voices, they were still only young men, at least as far as Kokron could tell.

_The ardour of youth. Figures. Ah, but to be twenty again..._

Without so much as slowing down, the Hylians raced over the threshold of Goron City, and the trap snapped close behind them as the guards pulled their levers. Countless rocks large and small came crushing down from above the entrance and piled up at least six feet high. Two Hylian stragglers were hit and almost buried and were only dragged to safety by their comrades at the last second. The rays of the sun were almost completely blocked out, and half-darkness turned into what Kokron estimated to be at least three-quarter-darkness.

"Well, isn't this great, you brainless farts," one of the young soldiers' shouted at his comrades, "look at the mess you got us into. If we make it out of this... ah, not now. I think I see Gorons. Be ready to fight!"

"Man, Link, don't get all pissed! If we kill the king or the Triforce guy, we'll be heroes!"

_I'm not 'Triforce guy',_ Kokron grumbled to himself, _I'm the dragonslayer. Oh, and you'll never even get close to the king, you little brats._ He gripped his mace with both hands, waiting for the leader of the small force to give the attack command.

"Enemies! Enemies in the city!" a high-pitched voice suddenly sounded from behind him, and when he turned around, Kokron saw a young, unarmed Goron running from the inner city toward the momentarily unusable entrance. At the very same moment, the order to attack was given, and all the other Gorons rushed the Hylians, shouting a battlecry of their own. Only Kokron remained behind, slightly confused about the situation. The youth spotted him in the near-darkness and ran to him. "There are enemies in the city!" he repeated.

"It's all right," Kokron tried to calm him while attackers and defenders clashed behind him, "we have it under control. Now you just get away from here and hide, before-"

"No! Not them!" The young Goron shook his head. He looked afraid, but did not seem to be panicking. "They are wearing black, and there are, like, a dozen of them! They came in through the old tunnels." His gaze fell on Kokron's Triforce Mark that glowed slightly. "I think they're looking for you, dragonslayer!"

_Wow, this is the first time somebody other than myself used that title! Perhaps if I repeat it often enough, it's going to stick!_

_But this is serious. Soldiers wearing black? They must be Sheikah! How did they find their way through that maze... ah, never mind that now, they have to be stopped._

"Where did you see them?" he asked the youth.

"I think... in the second inner ring. No, the third. I'm sorry, I'm not sure."

"It's all right," Kokron told him, "that's good enough. Now go run and hide someplace safe." He raised his voice to make himself heard. "There are intruders in the city, and we have to stop them! Half of you, come with me! The rest, wipe out these fools, then catch up to us."

Although Kokron had no formal command authority, he was well known among Goron warriors after his triumph over Volvagia to be trusted and not questioned. Five defenders disengaged from battle and followed him on his way to the inner city. He greatly disliked splitting the already small force in two, but a band of Sheikah running freely in the city was not something to be taken lightly.

_That leaves six or seven of them against twenty Hylians. Bad odds. Damn it, this shouldn't have happened._

Kokron was not ready to consider defeat – it would take much, much more than that – but he had a very bad feeling about this intrusion.

_On the bright side, I get to kill some more Sheikah._

To Kokron's dismay, however, finding the enemy proved more difficult than he had hoped. The six warriors encountered several more fleeing Gorons, but most of them were simply panicking and contradicted each other when asked about the enemy's position.

"This is hopeless," he told his comrades after they had circled around the complete second and third inner ring without encountering the intruders. "We have to guess where they're going." He guessed. "Probably to the king, to kill him or hold him hostage. Maybe we can crush them between us and his bodyguard. Let's go!"

While running on one of the ledges of Goron City's muli-tiered central cavern, Kokron plotted the shortest path to where Grangus was supposed to be hiding – not his usual chambers, as that would have been too obvious, but rather a large storeroom in the far reaches of the city, two stories above them. But the small group did not even make it to the next set of stairs before running into a group of regular Hylian soldiers – the same group that had been trapped near the entrance. Both sides froze for a second, then charged at each other, although only two of them could stand next to each other on the narrow ledge – a chokepoint that would prove beneficial to the outnumbered Gorons.

_Damn it, that means they killed them all!_ Kokron cursed as he brought down his mace on the leader's shield, while one of his comrades attacked another Hylian on his left side. _At least they took some Hylians down with them... I count only about fifteen now. _A high thrust aimed at his neck barely missed its target and hit his chest armour instead. _Maybe I shouldn't concentrate on counting, but on fighting._

"How did you find us so fast?" he asked between his teeth and hammered his opponent's shield with his mace.

"Dumb luck. Emphasis on 'dumb'," the young soldier replied, and Kokron recognized his voice as that of the foul-mouthed leader of the small band. "Since you trapped us inside, we might as well have a look around." He parried the last of Kokron's strikes and slid his sword down his mace, almost cutting off the fingers holding it.

_He's not bad for one so young. I have to be careful. And we have to be quick. The Sheikah are the real danger!_

Determined to end this fight, Kokron parried his enemy's next strike, then tackled him with his right shoulder, throwing his full weight into it. The young Hylian staggered back, one of his feet stepped on air, and, waving his arms, he fell over the ledge. Unfortunately, he managed to grab Kokron's ankle as he fell, dropping his shield in the process, and before the Goron could hang on to something, he was pulled down along with him.

The ledge they had been fighting on was the second-lowest and only nine or ten feet high. The agile Hylian hit the ground rolling and managed to avoid any visible injury, although he had to drop his sword to avoid impaling himself. Kokron was not so lucky, nor so aerodynamic: His massive body spun around in mid-air and landed on his right arm. His thick skin did not help him against the force of the impact, and with a cracking sound and a burst of pain, his arm broke. At least he thought it broke; it certainly hurt enough. He let go of his club, groaned in pain and used his good arm to struggle to his feet.

_Ouch. Argh. Damn that brat._

They were alone now on the lowest floor of the largest cavern in Goron City. Kokron picked up his mace with his left hand – the weaker hand, but what was he to do? – while his broken arm dangled uselessly off his shoulder. The young Hylian, in turn, picked up both sword and shield and turned to face him. Kokron feared that those Hylians who could not fight due to the narrowness of the ledge would jump down and help their leader, but instead they cheered for him as though he was some kind of pitfighter.

_Well, we are in a pit now. Sort of. Arrrgh, why did I have to be so unlucky?_

Two of his fellow Gorons were about to jump down, but Kokron yelled at them to stay on the ledge and take their comrades' places if they fell; they were already outnumbered severely enough, and he would need no help to beat this kid, even if he would have to do it one-handed.

The young Hylian's blue eyes remained calm, yet determined, and inspected Kokron's useless right arm. His eyes widened, and Kokron realized that he had recognized the Triforce Mark on his hand.

"That's right," he said, trying to sound threatening and not to wince in pain. "I am your target. The one you're trying to kill. So do your worst, kid."

"We are under orders to capture you dead or alive," the young Hylian answered. He was poised to continue their fight, but did not attack yet. "I don't want to kill you."

"That's too bad," Kokron snapped, "because I definitely want to kill you."

"But you can't fight like this!" A strand of sweaty blond hair fell over his eyes, and he used the back of his left hand to brush it away. Kokron used the opportunity to lunge at him and attack.

The impact of his mace against the shield shook his broken arm and caused a new inflammation of the pain that he had just been able to suppress. He turned his scream of agony into something vaguely resembling a battleshout and attacked again, swinging his two-handed mace as best he could with his left hand. The Hylian fought left-handed, too, Kokron noted, except that he did so by choice, so there was no advantage to be had here. He seemed reluctant to go all out against his enemy, no doubt held back by his personal code of honour. There lay Kokron's only chance.

_I have to finish him before he changes his mind about being honourable._

In order to drown out the pain, Kokron worked himself into a blind frenzy, beating down on his enemy, who blocked and parried every hit as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

_Is he that good? No, I'm just not at my full strength._

A body fell down from above and hit the ground on Kokron's left side, but he could not see whether it was one of his own or the enemy's; his field of vision seemed to have narrowed somehow, and he had no time to turn his head. His mace finally hit something soft, and the young Hylian's corresponding pained grunt raised his spirits. If only he would have been able to see where he had hit him...

_I'm starting to black out. Not good._

Kokron took two steps backward and swang his mace in a wide arc to buy time. He was not actually blacking out; the pain was just temporarily taking his eyesight. He had heard of that before. It would return to him in a moment. Just a moment...

From the ledge above, excited shouts suddenly reached his ears, followed by a quick succession of death screams – none of them coming from a Hylian throat.

_What's happening up there? Why are they losing?_

_Curse it, everything is falling apart!_

A heavy blow struck Kokron's left arm, cutting deeply and sending his mace flying away behind him. He heard it hit the ground with a plain finality that signalled the end of this fight. The next moment he was tackled by his enemy and fell on his back. He tried to get up, but neither of his injured arms could support him. All he could do was helplessly wave his hands and feet around, but for the sake of his remaining dignity, he lay still and accepted defeat. As he stopped struggling, the pain sank to a less unbearable level, and the light returned to him. Kokron did not like what he saw.

Directly above him, on the ledge the two of them had fallen down from, a number of black-clad warriors were just wiping the blood of his dead comrades of their blades, while the remaining Hylians looked at them with unadulterated awe. One of the Sheikah – for who else could they be? – casually dropped down the ledge and soundlessly landed on the ground floor next to Kokron's vanquisher. Like all the other Sheikah warriors, his face was covered by a black mask, and his demeanour was that of a conqueror.

"My, my, if it isn't Link," he spoke to the Hylian soldier. "When I told you to meet me in Goron City, I didn't actually think you'd make it here. I am impressed."

"Ashra?" The young soldier named Link seemed to recognize the Sheikah. And, if Kokron was not mistaken, he did not like him very much. The Sheikah, in turn, either did not see that or did not mind it. Probably the latter.

_Why do I even care who they are and what their relationship is? They're going to drag me in chains before Darion, who'll probably execute me himself. What a pathetic end._

But his end had not come yet, and as long as he was still conscious, he might as well listen, if only to find out the details of what was going to happen to him.

"I see you are hurt," the Sheikah named Ashra continued and pointed at a small red spot on Link's waist. _That must have been where I hit him. A lousy hit. It's not even bleeding much. Unlike my arm. Damn you, if you want to capture me, at least patch me up, or I'll bleed to death before you can present me to your prince! _But Kokron was certainly not going to beg.

"It's nothing serious," Link dismissed his wound. "So I take it you found your way up here. Is the lens still in one piece?"

"Of course, of course. Why do you care?"

"No particular reason. It would have been interesting to see your grandfather give you a beating if you broke it."

Ashra laughed, a laughter that Kokron found highly unpleasant. "Why so hostile? You have won my respect today, and that's no easy feat. At any rate, my mission went without a hitch, although it took a little longer than expected." He paused and removed his mask, revealing what was probably a typical Sheikah face; pale skin, red eyes. And a very triumphant smile.

"Maybe you care to know that we just apprehended King Grangus. He was smart enough not to fight back."

"Congratulations," Link said without enthusiasm. The other Hylian soldiers above were more receptive and cheered at the Sheikah's news.

_Grangus, a prisoner? Will the bad news never end?_

"But our mission is not complete yet," Ashra continued. "The Triforce Bearer wasn't with him. Once I find him, I can return to the Keep in triumph."

_No, not that. Not while I still draw breath._

Kokron rolled to the side and buried his right arm under his body in a desperate attempt to hide the Triforce Mark on his hand. His broken bone did not take very kindly to that, and in spite of his best efforts to remain silent, he yelled in pain, drawing the two young men's attention to himself.

"And who is that?" Ashra asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, whoever he is, you tore him a new one. But why didn't you kill him?" He smirked. "Perhaps you don't have what it takes? Want me to do it for you?"

"Shut up and listen for a second," Link snapped at him. "This is the Goron you're looking for. The one with the Triforce Mark."

_Of course, that one already saw the mark. How stupid of me to forget..._

"Is he, really?" Ashra asked with genuine surprise. He dropped to one knee next to Kokron and pulled out his right arm from beneath him, causing the Goron to scream out in pain again. When he saw the golden triangles on his hand, Ashra cocked his head and nodded at Link.

"Why, you've found him first! You shame me."

"Stop talking like this is a game," Link spat.

"Not a game. More like a hunt. _He_ is the game, if you catch my drift." Ashra grabbed Kokron's skull with both hands and looked him in the eyes with a cold intensity that managed to chill even the seasoned Goron warrior.

"You, Goron. Do you understand me? Can you talk?"

Kokron refused to answer. Ashra replied to his refusal by punching him square in the face. The pain was barely noticeable in comparison to the agony he was already in, but the second time it hurt more, and the third time even more than that.

"Ashra, stop it!" Link shouted.

"Stay out of this, Link. I'm acting on orders of the prince – very important orders given only to the Sheikah!" He turned back to Kokron. "So, are you going to acknowledge me? Or do you want more?"

"I hear you," he rasped. _Fine, let him interrogate me. It's not like I have any vital information – wait! I do!_

"You know who the third Triforce Bearer is," Ashra said. It was not a question.

"I'm not telling."

Ashra laughed. "But of course you will."

"Make me." Kokron's courage was little more than an act now, but he would see it through until the curtain fell. There was no way Ashra could torture him for long without killing him. Kokron knew this type: He had no patience whatsoever.

"Oh, I will. And I won't even have to touch you to do it." He grinned. "We'll find your children, your family, and bring them here. Let's see how long you last when you see them suffer because of you."

"Ashra! This is going too far!"

"It's all right," Kokron assured the agitated Hylian, although he had no idea why he did that. To Ashra, he said: "I don't have children, and no remaining family. And since I'm a jerk, I also have no friends." The third part was a lie, but he had to stall for time until he bled to death. "There's no chance I'll ever tell you. Nor will the king."

"Fine, we'll have to do this the hard way," Ashra sighed. "You're going to – wait." He giggled. "Ah, you gave yourself away just now. 'Nor will the king', eh? So you told Grangus who the third Triforce Bearer is."

"No, I didn't," Kokron quickly said, but he already knew it was pointless. He had screwed it up.

"Yes, you did," Ashra nodded. "And it will be far easier to make him talk than his recalcitrant champion." He smiled a smile of smug satisfaction. "Yes, your king will do nicely." His hand wandered to his belt and drew one of his slim swords from its scabbard. "Then all that is left for you is to surrender the Triforce piece. Allow me."

"NO!"

Several things happened in quick succession, yet Kokron perceived them with perfect clarity. Ashra clasped his sword with both hands and raised it, tip pointing downward, over Kokron's neck. Link yelled and lunged toward Ashra. Two masked Sheikah warriors appeared behind him and seized his arms, restraining him. Ashra raised the sword a little bit higher, then brought it down on Kokron's throat and pierced it.

There was terrible pain, and then Kokron heard himself drawing in a gurgling breath. But it was not air that reached his lungs, but a sharp, biting cold, as if he was being submerged in icy water and liquid entered his lungs through the hole in his throat each time he tried to breathe.

_This... this is a travesty... I didn't want to end like this._

"What, still struggling?" a distant voice asked. "My, you're tough." There was something else – it sounded like impotent, outraged screaming. But it was very subdued. Again, as if he was submerged in water.

_Water... that reminds me. Something important. Water... fish? No. Zora? Narala!_

"Well then, once more with feeling."

_Narala, you have to flee. His power is too great. Flee... you are the last..._

For the second time his throat was torn by cold iron – or was it ice? Kokron could not tell – and then everything was over.

* * *

"You monster!"

Link struggled against the two Sheikah Elites restraining him, but their grip was too strong for him to free his arms. He could do nothing but stare in outrage and anger at the corpse of the Goron Ashra had just murdered.

"Be silent!" Ashra told him as if he was hushing an unruly child. He was still kneeling next to the dead Goron and watched the body with rapt attention. "Ah, here it comes!"

A golden light emanated from the the Goron – what had he called himself before the battle, back on Death Mountain Trail? Gorgon? Koron? Link could not remember, and somehow, that saddened him. The light suffused not just his hand, but his entire body, until he looked like a golden statue someone had carelessly knocked over. Then a brief, but intensive flash of light blinded everybody in the room, and Link had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, the Goron's body had assumed its original colour and texture, and a small golden triangle hovered above him in mid-air, slowly sinking toward to the ground.

"Yes!" Ashra exclaimed and snatched the triangle – no, the Triforce, Link knew – out of the air. "Kill him, and the piece leaves his body – just as the prince said." He casually threw the Triforce piece into the air and caught it again, then closed his fist around it. "Now there's only one loose end to tie up before we can leave this... uh... city." He looked up to the ledge, where three Sheikah Elites were still standing next to Link's own soldiers. "Go and fetch the king," Ashra ordered. The three men obeyed, and Link realized that Ashra had not been boasting in Kakariko village – he had truly been placed in command of this operation.

_What for? Not his upstanding character, that's for sure._

"That was murder!" Link shouted when Ashra finally decided to grace him with his attention once again. "He was a prisoner of war!"

"They key word being 'war', my young friend." Link was not much younger than Ashra, and he certainly did not want to be his friend, but he refused to let himself be goaded like this. Not when Ashra had done things far worse than belittling him.

"We are at war," the Sheikah repeated. "And do you know what that means?" He raised the clenched fist containing the Triforce piece. "In war, there are no rules, and no laws! The strong can do anything they want, and the weak must bend their knees and suffer it. That is the essence of war. That is the beauty of war!" He smiled at Link, exhilarated. "You are strong, too! So why do you not embrace war? People like us, like Prince Darion – we are the ones who put our mark on this world!"

Link closed his eyes and shook his head. There was nothing to be said. Perhaps yesterday, he would have seen some meaning in Ashra's words – very unlikely, but possible. But not after today. Today he had learned that there was nothing good about war – there was no order, no system, no logic. The strongest frontline could break if a stray spark ignited a bomb. The greenest recruits could invade an enemy fortress if coincidence divided their enemies. The greatest warrior could lose to a youth because he broke his arm in a fall. To see any kind of beauty in this was to be insane.

"You will yet come around," Ashra announced proudly. "I know you will. And I'm looking forward to that day." He waved his fingers toward the two Sheikah Elites restraining Link, and they immediately let go of him. Link was of a mind to draw his sword, lunge at Ashra and cut him down as punishment for his crime. Even if the two Sheikah were to kill him the very second he rid the world of this murderer – would that not be worth it?

_No, it wouldn't, _he realized. _Ashra is a nobody. An attack dog on a leash. And the one who holds the leash, the one who sits at the heart of this war is Darion. I knew something was wrong with him when I met him back then, the way he almost killed me._

_But what could I have done?_

Punishing himself for past oversights was futile, Link knew. He would have to see Darion again and demand an explanation for all this – if there was one that satisfied him. But if he attacked a Sheikah now, he would never the prince him except in chains. So he would have to play along with Ashra, even if he hated every second of it.

_And what will I do if he can't explain himself? If after talking to him I'm convinced he's insane? Kill him?_

_Yeah right. Even if I could beat him in a fair fight, I'd be flayed alive, and martyrdom isn't my thing._

_I just have to talk to him. He didn't seem like a bad person, just a bit strange and in way over his head. Maybe it's just people like Ashra doing things on their own, and... wait. That's the opposite of what I thought a minute ago._

_I just don't know anymore._

"No, don't bother with the stairs, just drop him down."

Ashra's words rudely interrupted Link's introspection, and he shrieked and jumped back when the body of another Goron hit the ground right between him and Ashra. He was older and than the warrior he had fought and his somewhat plump body was covered by far bigger and more detailed tribal tattoos then any other Goron he had ever seen. His hands were chained beneath his back, and his eyes covered by a blindfold. He groaned in pain when he hit the floor, but did not speak.

"Forgive me for not kneeling, your majesty," Ashra mocked, "but I'm in a hurry."

"That's the king?" Link asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Watch and learn, my friend," Ashra said and turned to the Goron ruler, removing his blindfold. "I will make this quick. You will tell me who has the third Triforce piece, and where I can find it. We will leave this place the moment you talk."

"Kokron," the Goron King whispered when he saw the body of the dead warrior, completely ignoring Ashra. "How did it come to this? How could I fail in my leader-"

"You will look at me when I'm talking to you," Ashra said and kicked the Goron King in the stomach. Grangus groaned and writhed in pain, but put on a brave face. "I'm not talking."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Ashra kicked him again. "I am not entertained by your repetitions. But don't worry." He pulled a short knife from his belt. "I'll make you sing a different song in no time." He knelt down next to Grangus' face and raised the knife. Link gulped and closed his eyes..

_There's nothing I can do. Nothing. If I intervene, I'll only get myself killed. There's nothing I can-_

"AAARGH!"

Link had had his fair share of screams today, but the Goron King's scream was worse than all of them. He pressed his hands against his ears so hard his head began to hurt and started humming in a loud monotone, all to drown out that terrible scream. It worked, and somehow, Link felt guilty for that.

Only two minutes had passed, at best, when someone tapped his chest, and Link opened one of his eyes and saw Ashra standing before him, a victorious smile on his face, the knife nowhere to be seen. He said something, but Link did not uncover his ears yet. Ashra rolled his eyes, then gave an order to his men, who, Link saw through a half-opened eye, carried the Goron King toward the closest flight of stairs, drawing two thin trails of blood behind them. Link quickly closed his eyes again and waited until he was sure they were out of earshot.

"I didn't know you were so sensitive." Ashra laughed, and again, Link wanted to kill him. Again, he controlled himself.

"He talked," the young Sheikah continued, "We're out of here."

"How do you know he didn't lie?" Link asked, his voice hoarse and dry as though he had been the one being tortured.

"What, are you kidding me? Nobody can lie when I'm talking to them. Not when I'm being _persuasive_. Hell, I'm staking my reputation with the prince on it, so you better believe I'm damn sure about this."

"Who is it?" Link asked. He asked not out of curiosity, but because he, somehow, had to warn that person. But Ashra refused to tell him.

"I'm under orders to only tell the prince. But don't worry, you'll hear it when I tell him."

"How so?" Link only wanted to get away from this revolting person, but he still forced himself to talk to him.

"Why, you're coming with me, of course," Ashra said jovially. "I wouldn't dream of taking credit for your outstanding achievement here." He opened his fist and threw the Triforce piece to Link, who almost failed to catch it, since he had never expected something like this. He stared at the golden object, smaller than the palm of his hand, and marveled how casually Ashra had handed it over to him.

_He probably knows less about it than I do. After all, he didn't hear Arnu's story. He probably thinks it's really just a royal family treasure with a bit of magic power._

_I could run away with this. Kill Ashra and run away, and hide it from Darion forever._

"We'll depart immediately to Keeptown," Ashra informed Link. "My men will accompany us."

_There goes that plan..._

"Don't look so grim," Ashra said with a cheerfulness that made Link's carefully controlled anger rise again. "We even have horses, so you don't have to walk." He closed his eyes, envisioning the future. "You'll give him the Triforce, and I'll tell him about the third piece. He'll shower us with rewards, perhaps even promotions!"

_Can I really give this to Darion?_ Link asked himself. _It's not like I have a choice_, he answered his own question. _If I get myself killed, Ashra will just hand it to him in my stead._

"Yeah, great. Promotions," Link said, just to say something. "Great, for you. Maybe he'll even knight you." It was an acrid suggestion, but Ashra took it at face value.

"Don't be silly, I can't be a knight. I'm a Sheikah. But what about you?"

"Like I care."

Ashra sighed overly loud. "What am I to do with you? Come on, let's leave this place. We're taking the same tunnels we used to enter."

"What about the armies outside?" Link asked. "Aren't they still fighting?"

"What? Oh, I sent a messenger to Lohgrimm. We got what we came for, so he'll probably be retreating really soon. Which means we can't stay here for long." He hesitated. "Your men can come with us through the tunnel," he offered generously. "But they can't accompany us to Keeptown. Not enough horses."

"That'll be fine." _I wonder how many of them are still alive. Didn't have a chance to count them after falling down here._

Ten minutes later, when the remaining Hylian and Sheikah soldiers in Goron City met at the exit of the tunnels, he knew. Of the twenty men he had led into the city (or rather, the other way round – he was still mad at them for simply charging through the gap in the Goron lines against his orders), eleven were still alive. He did not have the strength left to chew them out, nor was he particularly surprised when they told him what a great battle it had been.

_Why did I turn out differently? Why do I seem to be the only person who's not enjoying war?_

_I don't fit into my own unit. Some leader I am._ _When Thallius told me about his crazy idea, I should have said "thanks, but no thanks". He really got me good, feeding my ego by telling me how great I was._

The way back to Kakariko through the bowels of Death Mountain took three hours and was extremely uneventful. Link walked, or rather, trudged, at the rear of the strange procession of Sheikah Elites and Hylian rookie soldiers, rebutting all attempts at conversation. His thoughts centred on Darion and Ashra and the Goron King and the mysterious third Triforce Bearer and most importantly on how he, of all people, was supposed to sort this whole affair out on his own.

_I'll talk to Darion. Until then, I'll just put everything on hold and try not to snap. That should be hard enough._

To distract himself, Link thought of his home village for the first since the battle had begun; of Kari, who was tending to his farm, her brother, who probably did his best to make her life difficult, and the gaunt, shaky mayor who had sometimes joked about Link becoming his successor. Had it really been two weeks since he had left? It seemed like half a year had passed.

_Agreeing with Thallius' crazy idea wasn't my first mistake. Leaving Valhart was my first mistake. When all of this is over, and I'm still alive, I'll go home and marry Kari or something, and never set foot outside of the village again._

After the deeply troubling events in Goron City, this was a thought Link could take solace from, and, if only for a few hours, he forgot all about the prince, the war and the Triforce.


	25. Easy Come, Easy Go

**Chapter 25: Easy Come, Easy Go**

Kotake's memory of the past three days consisted mainly of blackness, interrupted only by a series of short, pain-filled waking moments spent staring at an empty ceiling, sometimes comforted by what sounded like Koume's shaky voice telling her that everything would be all right. Even in her condition, she had remembered that assurances like these were never to be taken seriously. Which made it all the more surprising that, when she had finally come to for longer than five consecutive minutes, she found herself, while not 'all right', at least no longer dying from an infected wound. She might have thought that it had all been just a fever dream if not for the long scar on her leg that would surely remain with her for the rest of her life.

_Not that I'm complaining or anything. It's a small price to pay for a miracle. And it adds a certain rugged quality to my good looks._

It was the night after her magic-assisted recovery, as little as an hour before dawn, and the twin sisters were sneaking through the corridors of the Keep for what Kotake hoped would be the last time. Ever since the Sheikah woman enlisted by her sister had healed her, she had spent most of the time sleeping and eating in order to replenish her drained strength until she could walk again without stumbling. Ignoring Koume's pleas to rest some more, she had insisted in leaving the Keep right now, while the darkness would still hide their movements.

_I'm not staying one more hour in this cursed place._

"Are you sure you don't want to go back?" Koume whispered behind her as they passed through an archway into the courtyard. "That woman said you needed to-"

"Look," Kotake replied without turning around, "if this is some roundabout way of making me say 'thank you' by reminding me of what happened, then thank you. However, I'm taking the hint fate has given me and get the hell out of here."

"Are you sure you can even climb the wall in your condition?"

"Perhaps not," Kotake said. "But we're not climbing any walls tonight. We're walking out through the front door."

"Uh, there are guards posted at the gate, you know."

"And they're bound to have their backs turned to the courtyard, so we'll just slit their throats from behind." Koume was about to protest, but she cut her off. "These people almost killed me. I'm done playing nice." To her surprise, Koume said nothing more about the matter and silently followed behind her sister.

_Perhaps she's finally seen reason about killing people when it's necessary. That would save me lots of trouble in the future._

The two women sneaked along the outer wall, hiding behind the many bushes adorning the courtyard whenever possible, keeping an eye out for any patrols or guards. Thanks to their vigilance, both of them noticed the tall figure standing in the middle of the courtyard, not far from the main gate, silently staring into the night. The silver circlet on his head glistened in the light of the moon, and he had his sword with him even at this unlikely hour.

"This is ridiculous!" Kotake hissed as she vanished behind a hedge, pulling Koume along with her. "Does this guy never sleep? And why is he here, of all places!"

"Maybe that woman told him..." Koume sounded disappointed. " I thought she was trustworthy."

"Impossible," Kotake reassured her sister. "She couldn't know when we were leaving, or how. No, let's just say he's a creep who likes to skulk around in the dark."

"Works for me," Koume said, strangely relieved. "So what do we do? We can't get to the gate while he's there." Kotake could almost see her sister's satisfied grin. "It looks like we have no choice but to go back and try again tomorrow night."

"Nonsense. We wait. He can't just stand there forever."

"But it also won't be dark forever."

Kotake was trying to come up with a suitable rebuttal when she heard the sound of hooves beating on the road outside, reminding her that there were more comfortable modes of transportation than walking. If someone offered her a horse right now, she would not say no, because there was still a dull ache in her leg that made walking unpleasant, though not outright painful. Not that she was going to let Koume notice her discomfort; she would never hear the end of it.

"Those riders are coming here," Koume whispered. "Let's get back while we still can."

"Let's not. They're not going to wander behind this hedge."

"What's the point in taking a risk?"

"Think! Maybe Darion is waiting for them. Or he'll leave with them. In that case, we'll be free to make our exit."

"Fine, whatever." Koume hesitated, listening into the night. "I think they have dismounted. They must be at the gate now."

Kotake nodded, and the sisters waited silently. Darion, too, had heard the approaching riders, and while he did not come up to meet them, he eagerly looked into the direction of the gate. Soon enough, the riders arrived, a dozen men leading an equal number of horses behind them. They all wore black armor and masks, and Kotake recognized them as Sheikah warriors. There was a single Hylian soldier among them; a blond youth who looked uncomfortable among the Sheikah who surrounded him. He held his hands close to his chest, as though he was clutching a valuable trinket and feared that his companions might steal it.

"Welcome home, my warriors," Darion exclaimed loudly, not bothering to keep silent even at this early hour. "Have you brought me the treasure that I lost?"

_He lost another treasure?_ Kotake thought, recalling how she had stolen the Ocarina of Time. _Security must be terrible around here. Figures that they never found us in that tower._

"We have taken it from your enemies, as you commanded, your highness," the one who must be their leader said, and stepped forth. He, too, looked and sounded young, and he seemed to be bursting with pride. "Although I am surprised to see you meet us here."

"Ah, but did you not promise me swift results?" Darion asked. "So I decided to take you on your word, and await your return here. I'm pleased that you didn't make me wait long... Ashra, was it?"

"You honour me by remembering my name," the young Sheikah said and knelt before Darion.

"Why are they so servile?" Koume asked with a hint of disgust in her voice. "Even the most loyal Gerudo don't treat Garanth like this."

"It's part of their culture," Kotake sighed. "Don't bother getting worked up about it."

"Allow me to say that each of the men assembled here fought with great skill and courage," the young man named Ashra said after Darion had bidden him to rise again, "proving the devotion of the Sheikah to the crown."

"I expected no less from you," Darion answered. Kotake noticed that he was nervously tapping his left foot, as though he could hardly await receiving whatever treasure it was that these soldier had retrieved. Then he noticed the single Hylian soldier among the Sheikah and took a step to his side to properly see him. "Who's this?" he asked.

"He is a soldier who fought in the attacking army, who distinguished himself in the battle by entering Goron City _almost_ at the same time we did." The Sheikah leader somehow managed to sound both respectful and belittling at the same time. "And most importantly, he found your would-be assassin and defeated him, securing the Triforce piece for you."

"He did all that?" Darion was genuinely surprised. "Stand before me, then," he called to the young Hylian, "and bring me my property that you have recovered."

"He must mean the Triforce!" Koume whispered. "He talk to Malark about it."

"Yes, I remember something. He had lost some pieces of it, I think. And he sounded really greedy talking about it." Kotake scowled. "He still does."

After several seconds' hesitation, the young Hylian stepped forward and faced Darion, standing next to the Sheikah leader. He did not kneel, nor even bow, but simply looked the prince in the eyes.

"I know your face," Darion said almost immediately. "You were the one who... yes, I remember. Your name was Link, wasn't it?"

The Sheikah warriors were visibly surprised that the prince knew the young Hylian, most of all their leader, who took a step back and looked at the soldier, then the prince, then the soldier again. Kotake could not tell whether he was impressed or envious, but probably a bit of both.

"Yes, I am Link," the young man said and nodded, ignoring his comrades' amazement. He had only eyes for the prince now, and Kotake thought she saw badly-concealed mistrust in his eyes. Then again, it was dark and she was hiding behind a hedge fifteen yards away, so she might just be mistaken.

"I'll be looking forward to your story, Link," Darion said jovially. "But first, give me the Triforce piece."

"Before that, I'd like to have a word with you," Link replied, his tone halfway between demanding and deferential. "Your highness," he added quickly.

_Oh, this one seems to have a bit of a spine. A little bit, at least._

"We can have a word later," Darion replied, sounding slightly irritated. "But first, I will have my property back!"

"Please, listen to me!" Link pleaded. "I can see why you want the power of the gods for yourself, but the ends don't justify the means! Do you even know what happened in Go-"

"Enough!" Darion bellowed. "I don't know how you learned about the nature of the Triforce, but you _will_ hand it over, right now, or you will find out that my favour can be lost as quickly as it can be earned."

"Power of the gods?" Koume whispered. "That sounds impressive. So that's why he wants it so badly!"

"He's a pampered, greedy bastard," Kotake sneered. "If blond boy here doesn't hand it over soon, I think he'll gut him right here and now." She paused as an inevitable thought crossed her mind. "If we could get our hands on that thing..."

"Go ahead, attack them." Kotake could almost see her sister roll her eyes in the darkness. "There's only, like, a dozen of them, and you're in great health, too!"

"That's why I said 'if'!"

Kotake's attention returned to the scene before her. The prince was now holding out his opened palm toward Link, who was still hesitating, while the Sheikah grew increasingly nervous, clearly not understanding why the young soldier was making such a fuss. His gaze wandered through the darkness like that of a cornered animal looking for a way to escape; but of course, there was none.

Finally, when the prince seemed just about to draw his sword and cut down his own subject, he sighed and offered Darion the small, golden object that he had been holding close to his chest. The prince snatched it from him with a speed that impressed even seasoned thieves like the Gerudo twins and clutched it in his hand while Link looked like he had just handed a lit torch to a madly giggling arsonist.

"Well, well," Darion said after several seconds. "I thought it would enter my body just like the first part did. That would have been much more convenient. Now I must take care not to lose it." He took a deep breath. "Now there's just one piece left."

_Why do I get the feeling that something bad will happen when he finds the final part?_

"Now what was all that about, Link?" Darion asked the unhappy young soldier, sounding much more relaxed than before receiving the Triforce. "Ah, never mind," he dismissed him before he could answer, "I'll get back to you in a minute. Ashra!"

"Yes, your highness." The young Sheikah stepped forward.

"Have you ascertained the location of the third piece?"

"I have, my lord. It is currently in possession of Queen Narala of the Zora."

Darion nodded fiercely. "Yes, Zelda hinted at that when I... I mean..." His voice trailed off, and he lowered his face, perhaps recalling an unpleasant memory.

"I talked to General Shaz as you wanted me to," Ashra said, unaware of whatever had given his prince pause. "He told me he'd... uh... 'persuade' some of the Goron prisoners to implicate Narala as the mastermind of the conspiracy against you. Assuming he convinced Generals Lohgrimm and Thallius, the army will depart to Zora's Domain at dawn. General Shaz will then direct the remaining Sheikah Elites to capture the queen and deliver her to you, along with the item she carries."

"Ah, excellent. I told Shaz in our private conversation that he should take the initiative depending on your findings. I'm glad to see he could read between the lines."

_Wow, this insane warmonger can't get enough, can he? First the Gorons, now the Zora... at this rate, the Gerudo will be next._

Koume seemed to have the same fears and the sisters shared a look of deep concern. Events were progressing at a rapid speed, and Darion was proving to be as unpredictable as he was unscrupulous.

_Now if you kindly could move your meeting inside so we can leave this damn Keep and warn whomever it concerns. Probably Garanth. I mean, who else is there who'd listen to us?_

"I can't believe what I just heard!" Link suddenly said, his voice raised. "You've already caused so much death and suffering, all for the sake of these Triforce things. Why won't you negotiate with the Zora? Why even more war, more killing?"

_Nice try, kid, but it's hopeless. You don't know how crazy your prince is._

"You're out of line!" the young Sheikah barked at him. "You don't tell the prince what he can and can't do!"

"It's all right, Ashra," Darion said. "It's clear that the war, short as it was, has taken its toll on Link. That's only natural for a new recruit."

"It was my first real war, too, and I didn't-"

"Ashra! You're being inconsiderate. Not everybody is the same."

_My, how sensitive and understanding he can be. I bet it won't change a thing._

"Link, believe me when I say that I don't want to cause unnecessary suffering." Darion's voice was soothing, though it had little impact on the young soldier, who continued to scowl bitterly. "Already Lohgrimm's army has retreated to Kakariko, according to my orders – my quarrel with the Gorons is over. And likewise, he will be instructed not to linger at Zora's Domain longer than necessary. No pillaging, no occupation, no unnecessary killings."

"Tell that to Ashra! He killed the Triforce Bearer although he had surrendered! And he tortured their king!" Link was openly furious now, and Kotake wondered how long Darion was going to tolerate this.

"Remember that that Goron tried to kill me," Darion said. "It was his just punishment. As for torture: Many lives will probably be spared in the long run by retrieving the Triforce as fast as possible. And Grangus still lives, does he not?" Ashra nodded in confirmation.

"You're making this very easy on yourself," Link said.

"Believe me, I'm not. But as the ruler of Hyrule, the welfare of my people is paramount, not that of the Gorons or Zora. I'm sure you'll understand that one day."

Link opened his mouth again, but Darion cut him off. "Now let's cease this fruitless debate. In the end, history will prove me right. Now, to reward your stunning accomplishment..."

_Yes, bribe him in order to shut him up. This guy is making me sick._

"Attack! We're under attack!"

The heads of all present, including the hidden Gerudo, turned at the same time toward the soldier who came running into the courtyard, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"The city is under attack! The craftsmen's quarter is on fire, and it's spreading!"

For what little credit Kotake was willing to give him, Darion was quick to act. With a commanding shout, he stopped the soldier, who probably would have run past the group convening in the darkness, and demanded more information.

"It's the Zora, your highness," the man gasped. "They came from the north, probably from the river. They used torches to set many of the roofs on fire, and now they're killing everybody who tries to extinguish it or fight back!"

"Damn these fish-eyed murderers!" Darion cursed. "Have they no honour at all? You see now, Link, they're bringing the war to us first!"

"We did attack their allies," Link argued, but the prince paid him no heed. "Rouse the commander of the guard," he ordered the soldier who had brought the grim news. "He is to assemble every single guardsman and meet me in front of the Keep as soon as possible. I'll lead them myself to drive out this rabble!" He turned to the Sheikah. "I know you must be exhausted from fighting and riding for so many hours, but I must call upon your strength in this dark hour, for we are certainly outnumbered."

"We will fight until we collapse, my prince," Ashra boasted. "Our strength is yours."

Unimpressed by the Sheikah's hollow display of pathos, Kotake looked to the north and saw dark clouds of smoke rising beyond the Keep's walls. None of those assembled in the courtyard seemed to have noticed them so far. "You reap what you sow, eh?" she whispered.

"I wonder," Koume said. "Will that make it more or less difficult for us to escape?"

"We'll see."

"I want your men to go ahead, Ashra," Darion told the Sheikah leader. "Use the narrow streets to your advantage and attack the Zora wherever you can. Protect anybody who attempts to put out the fire. I'll follow with the Keep's guard as soon as they're ready." He slapped his forehead with his palm, as if he had remembered something important. "There's something I have to take care of first. It wouldn't do to lose the Triforce piece during the fighting. I'll lock it away in the vault for the time being." He rushed toward the Keep's main building, but hesitated when he passed Link. "Make yourself useful, too," he said. "We can't afford any rest now, not while my people are being killed."

"I'll lead the horses to the stables," the young Hylian offered. "They'll only be in the way when the guards come through here on their way outside."

"Yes, yes, good thinking. Join up with the guardsmen after that, and follow whatever orders you receive." With that, Darion was off, still clutching the Triforce piece as if it was his most valuable possession, which it probably was. Ashra rallied his Sheikah and marched them out of the gate, while Link clumsily shooed the exhausted horses off to the stables.

But the courtyard did not remain empty for long, as dozens of guardsmen began streaming toward the main gate in small groups, often putting on their pieces of armour as they ran. Darion, too, re-emerged after five minutes, his sword raised high and shouting orders. Kotake and Koume remained hidden behind their hedge, silently observing the hurried battle preparations.

After a quarter of an hour, the steady stream of men-at-arms turned into a trickle, then ceased altogether. Darion's booming voice could be heard outside for a short while as he gave his men their orders; soon after, he became inaudible, indicating that his small defence force had moved out to meet the attackers. Silence settled once again over the courtyard.

"I think it's safe now," Koume said, her voice louder than before.

"Tell me, sister," Kotake asked playfully, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Uh, that depends. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about acquiring a parting gift. Compensation for my leg, if you will."

"You mean that Triforce piece?" Koume sounded shocked. "That's crazy talk! It must be guarded by-"

"By the few soldiers who still remain in the Keep. This is a golden opportunity!"

"But your leg!" Koume protested.

"What of it? It's working just fine, thank you." Kotake chose to seize the initiative and leave the safety of their hiding-place, or else they would still be arguing when the defenders came back. Although she had no idea how numerous the attackers were, Kotake had a feeling that they were here to terrorize, not to conquer, and would probably retreat in the face of coordinated resistance. At least that was that she would do in their place.

"Come on," she urged Koume. "Let's look for it. We don't have much time."

"Didn't you want to get out of here as fast as possible?" Koume asked, but her appeal to Kotake's own words fell on deaf ears.

"Not as much as I want to spit Darion in the eye," she said. "He'll get a stroke when he comes back and finds his precious Triforce piece stolen." The mental image alone was almost worth the ordeal of the last days. "And who knows, perhaps we can even use it for something. 'Power of the gods', remember?"

"I don't like this," Koume mumbled, but finally came out from behind the hedge. "But since you can't be reasoned with... I think I know where this vault is. I passed there while I was looking for a way to heal you. Follow me."

"That's more like it," Kotake said cheerfully and followed her sister toward the closest building. The remaining pain in her leg was completely gone, probably driven away by her excitement. "Remember, we're thieves," she told Koume. "Let's act the part!"

"Whatever. Let's just get it over with," her sister replied and the two women slipped back into the Keep proper.

_Hello, featureless corridors, I'm back. And I thought I'd seen the last of you._

_Whoa, wait, I'm talking to the walls. What is it about this place that drives people crazy?_

They took the usual precautions while navigating the corridors, stopping before every corner and cross section and listening for footsteps or voices, but the Keep was as empty as ever during the night.

_At least this time, there's a good reason. The guards are all out there fighting the Zora. _

"This Triforce must be a really big deal, that with everybody going to war over it," she voiced her thoughts. "All the more reason for us to take it, don't you think?"

"And what will we do with it once we have it?" Koume asked. "Sell it on the streets?"

"Actually, we... uh..." Kotake drew a blank. If the Triforce piece truly held some magical power, there was no way either of them would be able to unlock it. Trying to sell it to the ruler of another race, perhaps even back to the Gorons, was an option, although they would have to be very careful about this: Pretty much everybody involved with the Triforce seemed ready to spill large amounts of blood in order to get it, and the lives of two nameless Gerudo thieves would not be worth a straw to any of Hyrule's monarchs.

"I've got an idea or two," she said without elaborating, but that answer seemed to satisfy Koume. She silently led the way through the Keep until they came to a stop in front of a spiral staircase leading downstairs, similar to the one they had taken to get to the dungeon. Faint voices were audible from below, and Koume unnecessarily put her finger to her lips while tiptoeing down the steps, Kotake close behind her. The staircase opened to a short and narrow corridor which ended in a wooden door left slightly ajar. Koume peeked through it and raised two fingers to indicate the number of guards inside and looked expectantly at Kotake.

_Fine, I'll take the point._

Kotake nudged her sister aside and took a look into the room were two Hylian guardsmen, wearing the same mail armour and lances as their comrades, guarding an iron door sealed with two locks and a heavy bar. They were engaged in an agitated conversation about the Zora attack and did not pay any attention to the door.

_Your carelessness will cost you dearly. Nothing personal, of course._

Kotake chose to take the initiative, confident that her sister would follow her once she had engaged the guards. She drew one of her sabres, pushed against the door with her shoulder and rushed into the room.

For a second, the guards did not even notice her, and it took little longer than that to reach them. Holding her heavy sabre with both hands, she stabbed the first one in the chest before he had a chance to react and pierced his mail armour. The man went limp almost immediately and sank to the floor, giving Kotake just enough time to pull out her weapon before his weight dragged her down.

Shocked by the sudden death of his comrade, the other soldier took a jab at Kotake with his lance, and she had to step sideways in order to avoid it. Before he could attack her again, Koume charged into the room, and with a shrill scream that sounded more fearful than fear-inspiring, buried one of her own sabres in the guard's unprotected side. The man winced in pain, sank to his knees, and Kotake quickly finished him off by stabbing his chest. Unlike his comrade, he took a few seconds to die, but he made no loud noises, at least nothing louder than Koume's own dubious battlecry.

"That went smoothly," Kotake praised her sister, who looked a lot less mortified compared to the first time she had killed somebody. "But why so noisy?"

"Uh... I guess... to bolster my courage?" Koume grimaced, followed by a half-smile. "I'll have to work on that, don't I?"

"Yes, but you did fine. Really. Now, to open this door..."

"I've never seen a door with two locks," Koume marveled.

"The guards probably carry one key each," Kotake replied and knelt down next to one of the corpses. She found a large bronze key chained to his belt and dragged the body close enough to the door to open one of the locks. Koume did the same with the second guard, handling the corpse without any apparent unease. That left only the heavy bar to be lifted, a task that took the combined strength of both sisters.

"This thing better be in there," Koume said while catching a short breath.

"Even if it isn't, there's bound to be something good in here," Kotake replied and seized the oversized handle. "Shall we?" Koume nodded eagerly, and together, they pulled the heavy door open, revealing a tiny room consisting of little more than three wodden shelves, illuminated by a soft golden light. Kotake instantly spotted its source, which was of course the Triforce piece lying on a small purple pillow, and picked it up while sporting a triumphant smile. "I told you it would be here."

"Wow. It's smaller than I thought," Koume said. "Come on, let me hold it once!"

"Oh all right, but don't drop it." Kotake handed over the Triforce piece to her sister, then turned her attention to the other items in the vault. It was not exactly brimming with treasure, but she slipped a few jewels and a finely-cut diamond into her pockets. "Just a bonus," she explained when Koume frowned at her. "Oh, and look what's here!" She recognized the small blue musical instrument from her encounter with Darion and his baby brother and picked it up. "They probably decided to put it someplace safe after I stole it the first time."

"Put it back," Koume suddenly demanded.

"Huh? Why should I?" Kotake asked nonplussed.

"We traded this ocarina for your life. Even thieves are supposed to have some honour."

"You gave it back to that woman, didn't you? So the deal was fulfilled." As far as Kotake was concerned, the matter was clear-cut. "This is a new situation. We have no more obligations toward her."

"Wrong!" Koume insisted. "I promised her not to start any trouble."

"And killing two guards and stealing the greatest treasure of the kingdom doesn't count as trouble, because...?"

"That's... that's different!" Koume stuttered. "This Triforce piece doesn't even belong to Darion or the Hylians, but the ocarina is another story. Just put it back, all right? As a favour to me."

"Fine, whatever you say." Kotake sighed an exaggerated sigh and placed the ocarina back on its shelf. "It's not worth arguing about, and we really have to get out of here." She hesitated and wondered whether she should ask Koume to give her the Triforce piece for safekeeping, but after saving her life the other day and proving herself in combat just now, doing so would just have been patronizing her. "Make sure you don't lose it," she simply said. Koume nodded and placed the golden triangle in a leather pouch and made doubly sure that it was fastened tightly to her belt.

"Any final souvenir you want to take?" Kotake asked, and Koume took a short look at the vault's contents. Before she could decide on picking anything, both sisters winced when all of a sudden a throat was loudly cleared behind them.

_Stupid! We should have watched our backs!_ Kotake chided herself and spun around, her hands wandering to the hilts of her sabres. A young Hylian soldier was standing in the frame of the wooden door leading to the spiral staircase, effectively blocking their escape. She drew her weapons and was just about to attack him when he shouted: "Wait! I'm not your enemy!"

"What?" In spite of herself, she hesitated, as did Koume, who looked at the soldier with her mouth agape.

"I said I'm not your enemy," he repeated. "I could have stabbed either of you in the back while you were ogling your spoils, but I did not. What does that tell you?"

"Hm, perhaps you're stupid?" Kotake suggested.

To her surprise, he laughed. "Yes, that's a possibility." His demeanour was casual, but Kotake did not overlook that one of his hands rested on the door's handle, and the other close to the hilt of his scabbarded sword. If either sister were to attack him, he could quickly defend himself or retreat behind the door.

_Whoever he is, he is definitely not stupid._

"It's him," Koume leaned toward Kotake and whispered into her ear. "The soldier who came with the Sheikah."

Kotake blinked and took a closer look at the young man before her. His size and attire matched the soldier who had given Darion the Triforce piece, as did his unkempt blond hair. And now that she thought about it, his voice was the same, too.

"So you're saying you're not with Darion?" Kotake asked, and the soldier shook his head. "Not anymore," he said.

"But you gave him the Triforce piece!"

"So you were watching?" he asked. Kotake said nothing, but Koume nodded.

"Well, if you watched, then tell me what I could have done," he demanded. "Darion would have killed me if I had refused. Believe me, I don't want him to have the Triforce. Why do you think I came here?"

"You mean you wanted to steal it, too?" Koume's eyes widened in surprise. The young Hylian nodded.

"Tough luck, kid, but as you can see, we were here first," Kotake told him. "Feel free to help yourself with the rest of the vault, though," she added in a bout of generosity, which for some reason made the young man laugh.

"Your name... it was Link, wasn't it?" Koume suddenly asked.

"That's correct," he nodded.

"Yes, splendid," Kotake scoffed. "Let's all introduce each other and start fraternizing! Maybe have a drink while we're at it."

"Not everybody in this Keep is a bad person," Koume pointed out. "You of all people should have learned that lesson. And he could have easily killed us from behind and bring the Triforce back to Darion. Or take it for himself."

Kotake grudgingly conceded her point. "Fine, so he isn't our enemy. But I still don't buy that he would have killed the guards." She addressed him directly. "I mean, they were on your side, weren't they?"

"Uh... I would have tried to find a way around it," Link said after a short pause.

"And if you couldn't find a way?" Kotake pressed him, and his expression turned grim when he replied.

"I killed several people yesterday. Not Hylians, but still people, and for no better reason than because I was ordered to. So if it had come down to killing these guards for a reason that was actually good, I would have done that." His resolve sounded genuine, but Kotake was not so easily convinced.

"But that doesn't make sense! If you wanted it so badly that you'd kill your own people to get it, why not kill us, too?"

_This whole situation is bizarre. We should be getting out of here, not having a nice chat with some kid soldier who may or may not be stupid._

"Oh, I see," Link replied, looking relaxed again. "You misunderstand me. I don't really want to have the Triforce for myself. I just want it as far away from Darion as possible. My plan was to give it to the Zora Queen, but if you take it to your desert... you are Gerudo, aren't you?"

"Yes, and you better not have a problem with that," Kotake said, her tone pre-emptively defensive.

"No, why should I?" Link sounded genuinely surprised. "At any rate, if you take it with you and hide it from Darion, that'll be just as well as if I took it. Perhaps even better, since the three pieces will be spread out farther this way."

"It's because of the power of the Triforce, isn't it?" Koume asked. "You don't trust Darion with it."

"You hit the nail on the head," Link said.

"How much do you know about it?" she inquired further.

"Not much, but enough to know that if he ever gets his hands on all three pieces... well, there's no guarantee something terrible will happen. But considering the crimes Darion already committed just to get its hand on it, I'm not taking that chance."

"All right," Kotake said in spite of herself, "Your words make sense. I believe you. Now, could you please move from that door so we can get out of here? We already wasted too much time talking."

"Agreed. Follow me." Link turned around and quickly climbed the spiral staircase.

"We're not following you," Kotake corrected him as she hurried behind him, relieved that they were finally getting out of this place, "we're just taking the same way out." Koume giggled as she fell in line behind her, and the strange trio swiftly, but silently made its way through the deserted corridors of the Keep.

_This is so weird. Just like... well, pretty much everything else that has happened in the last two weeks._

To Kotake's great displeasure, running caused her leg to act up again, and made her wonder whether she would be able to maintain a steady speed during their escape. She was happy when Link came to a stop after emerging in the courtyard and pretended to catch her breath while she waited for the throbbing pain to go away. Link vanished around a corner and returned a few moments later leading a black horse by the reins.

"I took the liberty to borrow a fresh horse before I started looking for the vault," he explained. "If I walked all the way to Zora's Domain, I'd probably arrive too late to warn them." He nodded courteously. "So this is where we part ways."

"Wait!" Kotake said before he could mount the horse.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Um... well..." _This is so embarrassing. _"You see, my leg kind of hurts, and ... well... could you perhaps leave that horse to us? You can easily steal another one, can't you?" She cleared her throat. "Please?"

"Wow, I thought that word didn't exist in your vocabulary," Koume commented unnecessarily.

"You can ride?" Link asked.

"We taught ourselves, a couple of years ago," Kotake replied, recalling how she and her sister had stolen a horse from one of the bigger farmsteads in western Hyrule. They had found out that horses were not well suited for desert travel (that mare had consumed obscene amounts of water), but had kept it around long enough to pick up the basics of riding.

"Hm, I'm not very experienced myself. Ahem." Link considered her request for a moment, then nodded. "Darion will definitely send out people to find the thieves, and if you travel on foot, they're bound to catch up to you." He handed the reins over to Koume. "How come you didn't plan for that?"

"Uh... we were being... spontaneous."

_This damn kid is putting us to shame._

"Thank you, Link," Koume said and prodded Kotake with her elbow.

"Yes, thank you," Kotake repeated, somewhat unhappily.

_First 'please', now 'thank you'. I'm sinking to new lows here._

"Keep that Triforce piece away from Darion," Link said. "That's all the thanks I need. Oh, and beware the Zora when you leave. No point in running into a skirmish if you can avoid it."

"Oh, right," Koume said. "I totally forgot about that."

"And you still plan to see their queen?" Kotake asked. "Even while they're attacking your capital?"

"The Zora didn't start this war," Link replied. "I have to warn them that Darion will attack soon. Though after this, they're probably expecting it." He rubbed his forehead with his right hand and suddenly looked very tired. "Even so, I can't fight for Darion any longer. But I can't simply go home, either. Not before this whole bloody mess is sorted out."

"Be careful," Koume warned him. "I can't imagine the Zora will take kindly to Hylian soldiers."

"Yes, you're right. At the very least, I have to loose this uniform."

"And don't push yourself! You look like you could collapse at any moment." Koume's concern was almost palpable, to her sister's slight dismay.

_It's not like we're going to meet him again. He's an idealist – their kind always get themselves killed for some noble cause. It's too bad, really, if you think about it._

"I... had a long day," Link admitted. "Maybe I'll catch some sleep later on the way." He yawned. "But I really have to go get a new horse now."

"Yeah, thanks again for that. Don't let us keep you." Kotake used the stirrup to climb on the horse's back and seized the reins. "Hurry up, Koume."

"Coming." Her sister climbed up behind her and put her hands around her waist. "Let's go, then." She turned around to face Link one last time. "Good luck."

"Likewise," he replied, and vanished around the corner.

"Yes, good luck to all of us," Kotake sighed. "Though he'll probably need it more than we do." She gently pulled the reins in order to steer the horse around and had it trot toward the Keep's main gate, which she was happy to find unguarded.

_Darion really pulled out all the stops to fight the Zora. Good for us._

Kotake breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left the Keep; it felt as though they had spent months in its inhospitable walls. Dawn was fast approaching, and thick clouds of smoke were clearly visible to the north, beyond the high walls of the Keep.

"The fires are still burning," Koume said. "Even if they defeat the Zora, putting them out will take a while." Kotake still remembered how the town's inhabitants had treated them and Garanth during their 'state visit', and decided not to waste even an ounce of pity on them.

_People like this Link are an exception among Hylians. Most of them are just like Darion, turning their own fear of the unknown into hate. They would be pathetic if they weren't so dangerous._

They followed the main thoroughfare due south, but could not move as fast as Kotake wanted, since a growing number of fearful and confused inhabitants filled the streets, clustering together in their attempts to find out what was going on in the northern parts of town. She felt the distrustful gaze of many a citizen wander over the black horse and its white-cloaked riders, but nobody tried to stop them. Which was for their own good, as far as Kotake was concerned, because she would have felt no compunctions whatsoever to simply run them over.

They reached the outskirts of town without incident and picked up speed as the streets became less populated, until the horse moved in full gallop when they left the last outlying buildings behind them. Kotake looked at the stars to take their bearing and steered the horse to the south-west, toward Gerudo Valley and the desert beyond.

_To think that I'll be happy to see this forsaken wasteland again... _

The horse climbed a slight slope overlooking Keeptown, and Kotake turned around to see how the city was doing. To her disappointment, the fire was smaller than expected, or perhaps efforts to put it out were already bearing fruit. Prompted by her sister's turn of the head, Koume looked back as well.

"I wonder when he'll notice that his treasure is gone," she said, raising her voice over the sound of hoofbeats.

"Sooner rather than later, I bet," Kotake said. "He's not the type to leave it in that vault for longer than necessary. He'll suspect us immediately – he knows we were still in the Keep."

"I hope that woman won't get into trouble," Koume said. Kotake blinked, then realized she was talking about the Sheikah who had healed her injury.

"If she's smart, she'll just keep her mouth shut," she said truthfully. "Don't worry about her, worry about us. Darion is going to move heaven and earth in order to get the Triforce piece back. We can't afford any mistakes, or we'll be two good-looking corpses real quickly."

"He'll send pursuers," Koume said. "And he'll know which direction we took, since the townsfolk saw us."

"Which means we have to reach the desert as soon as possible. No breaks or detours."

"Of course not. But what to we do then?"

Kotake hesitated. "Yes, uh... we better think about that."

"Didn't you say you had an idea or two?" Koume asked.

"Yes, but I lied so you would go along with it."

"You are hopeless," Koume sighed.

"Both of us, sister. Both of us."


	26. Unholy Alliance

**Chapter 26: Unholy Alliance**

The Zora had a reputation for being frailer and weaker than the other races of Hyrule because they spent so much time in the near-weightlessness of water that the strength of their muscles simply could not match those of Hylians or Gorons. Bringing this up in the presence of a Zora was considered highly impolite, and so Darion had never been able to gauge the truth of this rumour. Not before today, when he faced them in battle for the first time in his life.

_It's definitely true_, he thought as he brought down his sword on the Zora warrior in front of him, the last survivor of a patrol originally numbering five. His slender blue arm moved fast enough to block the blow with the small buckler he wore, but the sheer force of the blow broke the arm. The Zora reeled back, wincing in pain, and Darion lunged and finished him off.

_They're not putting up much of a fight. Small wonder they are reduced to using these despicable tactics._

As he had expected, the Zora had no intention to stay and fight: Barely half an hour after Darion had led the Keep's guard unit into battle, they had begun a staggered retreat toward Zora river, and all that was left to do now was mop up the enemy soldiers still left in the burning city, trying to sabotage the successful efforts to put out the fires.

What little resistance remained had holed up around the only well in the craftsmen's quarter, erecting makeshift barricades and denying the firefighters access to this vital source of water. The fires had been contained early into the fighting, but the bucket chains from the other wells in town could only be stretched so far, and the only way to put the flames out entirely was to conquer this well. Darion had placed half of the about fifty men fighting in his immediate vicinity at one side of the square where the well stood and was leading the other half through a narrow back alley around it to crush the defenders from both sides; a simple, but effective strategy, just the way he liked it.

_This will be over in a matter of minutes. And not a moment too soon. Narala will pay dearly for attacking my people._

After a sharp corner, the alley opened to the well square, and Darion could see the defenders again. They numbered forty, perhaps fifty soldiers, and had formed a circle about three rows deep around the well, pointing their spears outward, forming a defensive phalanx. Darion ordered his men to quickly spread in a half-circle around the well; once they did so, the soldiers he had left behind on the opposite side followed their example as he had told them to, and within less than a minute, the defenders were completely surrounded.

_They didn't even try to make a sortie. Perhaps they want to die close to the water in the well._

Darion was about to signal the attack when a single Zora soldier left the formation and slowly walked toward him, his empty palms slightly raised to indicate that he was carrying no weapons.

_So they recognized me, and now they want to bargain for their lives. How foolish._

Darion signalled his men to let the envoy approach unmolested until he had come face to face with the prince. He bowed in submission and hesitated, perhaps waiting for permission to speak. Darion contended himself with inspecting the Zora: Like all of his comrades, he was wearing a suit of light armour that looked like it had been crafted from the scales of a fish; he had found that it provided little protection against iron blades. The Zora's skin was parched from the heat and low humidity, and Darion appreciated the irony that the attackers were suffering from the blaze they had set themselves.

"Prince Darion...?" the man finally spoke. Darion continued to pierce him with his gaze and did not reply, but the Zora seemed to take that as a 'yes'.

"We offer our surrender," he simply said, and lowered his head. "We would only ask that you spare our lives."

Darion frowned and put a hand behind his right ear.

"I didn't understand a word of what you said. Must be the crackling of the flames."

Desperately, the Zora repeated himself, but Darion cut him off.

"I said I can't understand you. Now, if you want to die with a weapon in your hand, return to your comrades and make your peace. Otherwise, I will strike you down right here."

The envoy began to babble and stutter in fear, and only retreated back to the well when Darion raised his sword above his head. He whispered something to his fellow Zora, who in turn seemed to lose all hope, and returned to his position in the circle.

_No quarter to those who murder the innocent._

Darion shouted the order to attack and his men advanced toward the defenders from all sides simultaneously, raising their shield before them, brandishing their spears and swords with terrible fury. Weary and fearful and without any hope for salvation, the Zora put up as much of a fight as they could, but after only a few minutes, it was over.

Satisfied, Darion wiped his blade clean on his already blood-stained tunic and sheathed it while his men made sure that there were no survivors. He quickly dispatched a messenger to the militiamen who, after taking heavy losses against the Zora, had turned to fighting the fire, and soon enough they arrived in force at the square, carrying buckets instead of weapons and began extinguishing the fire.

_It's over. The damage that was done cannot be undone, but the city is safe._

"Prince Darion," a messenger from another unit who had just arrived on the scene reported, "the enemy army is retreating at a high pace. Shall we give pursuit?"

"No, let them run," the prince said after a moment's consideration. "All soldiers will help putting out the fires. The Zora will get what's coming to them soon enough," he added in the knowledge that the army that had been victorious on Death Mountain was likely on its way to Zora's Domain at this very moment. "Lohgrimm will see to that." And with the final piece of the Triforce in his hands, Darion would be able to make sure that something like this never happened again.

_The Triforce of Courage! I almost forgot about it in my concern for the people. I must hurry back to the Keep. I'd rather be keeping it on my person than in a vault, no matter how secure it is._

_"I told you to stay where you were and keep the Triforce close to you the whole time! But no, you just had to rush out to save your precious people. It's probably been stolen by now."_

_Oh, Malark, it's you,_ Darion replied in his mind, ignoring the dead wizard's usual rantings._ You haven't said anything in a while._

_"I'd rather not distract you while you're fighting for your life. After all, your death would be my death as well."_

_That would be an excellent consolation, if I were to fall. But I don't intend to._

Satisfied that the efforts to put out the fires were progressing favourably, Darion headed for the Keep. He soon entered the parts of town where the fire had already been extinguished, but the heat still lingered in the air, and the smell of charred wood assaulted his nostrils. He passed by several corpses, both Hylian and Zora, and tried to ignore them: He could not help the dead victims and could not punish the dead murderers any further. But he could not fail to notice that there were far more dead Hylians than Zora, and some of them had not even been armed, which fueled his rage even more.

_Narala has signed her own death sentence._

Darion stepped over the badly burnt corpses of three Zora soldiers sprawled across the street and wondered how they had managed to get themselves killed by their own fire. He turned a corner and almost tripped over a red-robed man sitting by the wayside, leaning against the sole remaining wall of a destroyed building. The man squealed and dropped to his right side, probably trying to avoid his would-be attacker, but his clumsy attempt at dodging only resulted in him lying on his back and wriggling like a bug. Darion was taken aback only for a split second until he saw that the man was clearly not a Zora, and therefore no threat to him. He was about to turn his back to him and continue on to the Keep when he recognized the pale features covered in sweat and the red eyes staring at him in surprise and recognition.

_Callach! What are the odds?_

"Your highness!" the young Sheikah sage said and struggled to his feet. "Is it over? Have we won?"

"Yes, and yes," Darion replied, but did not lend the wizard a hand. A thought concerning Callach was nagging at the back of his mind. Had there not been something he wanted to do about him?

_Oh yes, 'something' indeed._

"That's a relief." Callach used the sleeve of his robe to wipe the sweat off his brow and performed a short bow. "

"What were you doing here, anyway?" Darion asked.

"My home isn't too far from here, so I heard the cries of the night watchman," the sage explained. "When I heard that a counter-attack was being mounted, I decided to help." He grinned and rubbed his hands. "My knowledge of the arcane is still not what it could be, but I managed to give those Zora arsonists a taste of their own medicine. I am the Sage of Fire, after all." He drew a whistling breath. "It was more exhausting than I thought, so I sat down here to rest for a minute, when you came."

An expectant look came over Callach's face; obviously, he was expecting praise from his prince. But even though Darion found his actions commendable, he did not voice any praise. Instead, he remembered the events of yesterday's disastrous ritual, and what he had revealed to the young sage.

_He knows about Malark, and I can't trust him to keep silent forever. That is, not unless I silence him forever._

"Say, Callach," he asked, "have you spoken to anybody about the ritual from the other day?"

"What?" Callach seemed confused by the sudden change of topic as much as the lack of praise for his heroism. "Why, no, of course not!" he answered then and fiercely shook his head. "Your highness asked me to keep silent, and that's what I've done!"

_"For what it's worth, I don't think he's lying,"_ Malark's prodding voice sounded at the back of his mind. _"Which means it's not too late to dispose of him."_

_But I don't want to. He risked his life for my people. He doesn't deserve this._

_"This is not the time for second thoughts! If rumours ever arise that you're of unsound mind, you can say goodbye to your crown. And the Triforce, naturally."_

_I told you, I won't listen to you anymore. _Darion knew that what Malark said was true, but he dreaded what paths he might yet walk down if he continued to heed the words of this fell advisor.

_"Fine then, go ahead, cut off your nose to spite your face. And there I thought you knew what your best interests were."_

_You don't have my best interests in mind, nor those of my people! You're nothing but a vengeful ghost who would drag the rest of the world into the abyss along with him, and I'll be damned if I ever take your 'advice' again!"_

Several seconds passed in silence until Malark answered. Now, his 'voice' sounded almost gleeful.

_"You were never particularly bright, Darion. You are forcing your own hand, right here, right now. Or do you still not see it?"_

_What are you talking about?_

Malark's refusal to answer his question brought Darion's attention back to the reality around him. Only now, he realized that he had unconsciously clenched his fists while staring at the empty air during his internal dialogue, no doubt grimacing in anger at Malark's boundless depravity. And he realized that Callach was watching him with an increasingly concerned impression.

"It's him, isn't it?" he asked. "He's still vexing you." It was a statement, not a question.

_"Alas, poor Callach. To see his prince under constant mental assault by an evil spirit, drifting off and staring into space, longer and more often as time passes. I can almost see the seeds of doubt taking root in his mind. What if the prince loses himself one day? What if 'that one' takes over? Surely, he must talk to someone about his concerns. Surely, the venerable Sage of Shadow will lend him her ear..."_

_Shut up! You vile demon!_

But even as Darion cursed Malark's name, he knew that the dead wizard was right, as usual. Callach was seeing right through him, and as a Sheikah, he knew more about the dangers of possession than most others. It would only be a question of time until he confided with Arnu and the rest of his fellow sages. Once again, Darion found himself left with no choice.

_You played me well, Malark. But I'll remember that, too._

_"Remember what you will, but act fast. Someone could happen along at any moment, and even you can't be caught red-handed in this."_

Darion clenched his fists one last time, burying his fingernails deep in his palms, then seized Callach's wrist without warning.

"Wh-what is it, your highness?" he asked as Darion dragged him around the corner where he had come from, his voice laced with hints of fear.

"I just want to take a look at the Zora you killed."

"Uh... yes, right, there they are." Darion stopped in front of the three corpses without releasing his grip on Callach and picked up one of their spears with his free hand. He took a second to inspect it, noting that it did not consist of an iron head fastened to a wooden shaft like their Hylian counterparts, but had been crafted all of a piece out of an unknown material. During combat, Darion had noticed that the Zora had had difficulties piercing the Hylians' mail armour with these weapons, and now he understood that not only their lack of physical strength was to blame for that, but also the relative lightness of their spears.

_They're still good enough to kill unarmoured civilians_, he thought bitterly, _as the dead lying in the streets can attest to._

Callach coughed nervously behind him. "Prince Darion... If it's not too much trouble, would you mind letting go of my hand?"

"In a moment, Callach," Darion replied, weighed the spear in his hand, and took several careful looks into all directions. Once he was sure that there would be no witnesses to his deed, he turned around, raised the spear and plunged it into the sage's chest. Due to his formidable strength, the light weapon passed through Callach's body almost without resistance and exited it at his back.

The Sheikah's eyes widened in shock and pain, and he opened his mouth to scream, but he produced no sounds, merely a large gush of blood that painted Darion's arms and chest red. He stared at his prince in horror and disbelief, weakly waving his arms, but was unable to fight back, not that it would have saved him at this point. Strangely enough, he did not seem to bleed at all, until Darion leaned closer and realized that there was in fact a large crimson stain on his chest, but it was almost invisible on his red robe.

Callach spat blood two more times, further soiling Darion's already ruined clothes, then his eyes turned white and his body went limp. The prince let go of the spear and the corpse fell to the ground, only a few feet removed from the Zora whom he had killed.

_People will think one of them stabbed him in his dying breath, and he managed to crawl a small distance before he died. Perfectly believable._

He shuddered, disgusted by his own cold-bloodedness. But circumstances had not given him a choice, as had been the case so often in the past days. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "But it had to be done."

_"Splendid. Now go and retrieve the Triforce piece."_

_Shut up, you demon. I wanted to do that anyway._

_"Suit yourself. Just go."_

Darion hesitated. There was something odd about the whole situation. Malark had called him a hypocrite before, but had he acted any different, urging him to kill a fellow Sheikah?

_Why are you so pleased, anyway?_ he asked him._ Callach was one of your own people. I thought your agenda was to raise up the Sheikah. Or are you a hypocrite, too?_

_"You try to drag me down to your level, Darion? How amusing. I never claimed I'd be a benevolent ruler. The Sheikah of today are a pathetic lot, brainwashed by centuries of servitude. I don't harbour any illusions that they'll accept me with open arms; in fact, they will oppose me with all their strength. I'll have to beat them into submission, exorcise their slavish beliefs and reshape them in my image! Only then will they accept their new role as masters of this land... and mine as their leader."_

_So that's why you want the Triforce so badly_, Darion replied, for the first time given a deeper insight in Malark's agenda.

_"Of course. In order to liberate my people, I must first break yours. I am but one man, and not even my power is enough to defeat their might. But with the power of the gods at my command, I shall yet see my wish come true."_

Darion laughed out loud. Persistence like this was almost to be admired, had it not come from this malicious wraith haunting him.

_You speak as if you still believe you can control me one day._

_"Oh, I can and I will. I'm merely waiting for an opportunity."_

_Never._

_"We shall see."_

_This is ridiculous. I shouldn't even be listening to you._

_"You said that before, and still you always listen, and always answer me."_

_Because I can't make you shut up! If I don't answer you I'll probably go crazy with your incessant talking and mocking and-"_

"Prince Darion?"

_Damn you! I never pay attention to my surroundings during your prattling, so do both of us a favour and shut up!_

Darion's rebuke seemed to have an effect on Malark, and the prince was free to turn around and face the one who had called out to him. He knew that he was still standing next to Callach's corpse, his hands blooded, which could prove problematic. His concerns vanished, however, when he recognized the man moving toward him as one of his most devoted servants.

"Ashra, it's you."

"At your service, your highness." The Sheikah warrior bowed. He, too, was splattered with blood, none of which seemed to be his own. His eyes were red – his pupils always were, naturally, but even the white in his eyes was bloodshot now. In spite of this, he displayed no signs of exhaustion or fatigue; on the contrary, he appeared to burst with energy, and even seemed to be slightly on edge.

"I came to find you and was told you were on your way back to the Keep. Your leadership has prevailed against the cowardly Zora, as expected." He noticed the vast amounts of blood on Darion's clothes and a curious glance wandered up and down his body. "Are you injured? I see you're not wearing armour."

"There was no time to fetch it and put it on," Darion dismissed his inquiry. "And I'm not injured. The blood is all the Zoras'."

"Naturally. Forgive me for doubting you." Ashra bowed again, then noticed the red-robed corpse at Darion's feet. "Isn't that one of the Six Sages?"

"Yes," Darion said firmly. "Callach. I encountered him fighting three enemies on his own, throwing great balls of fire at them. But he was mortally wounded by a dying Zora before I could rush to his aid." He laced his voice with a hint of regret. "There was nothing I could do."

"Do not fault yourself, your highness. The Zora will pay for his death, too."

_"Smooth lying."_

"Speaking of which, I have a request to make. My men and I would like to depart for Zora's Domain at once, and meet up with the main army on the way. We would like to partake in their battle, and spill even more Zora blood."

"I share your desire for revenge," Darion said, but then something occured to him, and he frowned. "Wait. You fought at Death Mountain yesterday, and spent the night riding, and you fought again just now. You need to rest before you go to battle again, or you'll fall from your horses before you even meet up with Lohgrimm's men."

"No, we don't need rest." Darion noticed that Ashra's hands were quivering ever so slightly. "We Sheikah have means to combat fatigue, and remain battle-ready for days in a row, if need be! Please, send us out again against your enemies!"

_Malark, what are these 'means' he's talking about? Magic?_

_"No, he's referring to a drug manufactured by the Sheikah. It stimulates the user and allows him to stay fully awake and aware for days in a row, as he said. It has a number of long-term adverse effects, naturally, so I never used it much."_

_I never knew about this._

_"You never were the intellectually curious type. Unlike your sister."_

_Don't even mention Zelda!_

_"Good to know that your fuse is as short as ever."_ With that, Malark left him in peace once again, though who knew for how long or how short.

"You and your men are quite valuable to me, Ashra," Darion said. "I would hate it if you pushed yourselves too far and paid the price for it."

"We do not use this lightly, your highness," Ashra assured him. "But wasn't it you who emphasized that time was of the essence where the Triforce was concerned?"

"Ah, very good. How can I protest my own words?" Darion smiled. "All right, take your men and travel to Zora's Domain at once. Shaz should be with Lohgrimm. They are to use you during the assault as they see fit."

"Thank you, my prince," Ashra answered in an almost rapt tone. His face was even paler than usual, perhaps due to the drug, and he looked like some ghastly battle demon ready to tear his enemies apart.

_As long as he's my demon..._

"There will be some slight changes to my orders, Ashra. Listen well, and relay them to General Lohgrimm." The Sheikah nodded silently, and Darion continued. "In regards to Queen Narala, your orders are no longer to capture her. Kill her on the spot and bring the Triforce of Wisdom to me. It is to be her punishment for what happened here today."

Ashra smiled, as though he had expected this new directive. "I understand. We will push our horses to their limits, so we can arrive in time."

"That will be all, then," Darion said. "Fight well."

"We shall, your highness." Ashra turned to leave, but hesitated and asked another question.

"By the way... you didn't happen to see Link anywhere after leaving the Keep, did you?"

"Link?" Darion recalled the valorous, but slightly naive and easily outraged young soldier who had brought him the Triforce of Courage. "No, I didn't see him. I assume he's out there somewhere with the guards, putting out the fire. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's just... we have a bit of a friendly rivalry going on." Ashra made a dismissive gesture. "But it's not that important. We'll be on our way, then."

The Sheikah warrior vanished in the streets of town, eager to go and spill blood on behalf of his prince who, for a while, continued to stare at the spot where he had left his sight. Darion had always thought of himself as a soldier and was no stranger to bloodshed, but there always had to be a good reason. Ashra was not the kind of man who needed a reason, the type who had to be kept on a tight leash unless the situation called for it. As it did now. Darion was sick and tired of waiting much longer. He needed the whole Triforce as soon as possible.

_Speaking of which, I've gotten sidetracked again. I must hurry on to the Keep._

_"I was about to say that."_

Darion encountered numerous townspeople on his way to the Keep, many of whom recognized him and asked about what was going on, but he did not stop for prince was a busy man; they would understand. He reached the central part of town that had been unaffected by the fires and circled around the Keep's outer walls to its main gate. To his dissatisfaction, he found a tall young woman with long, braided hair pacing up and down in the courtyard, who moved to intercept him as soon as she spotted him.

"Prince Darion! There you are!"

"Skyll?" Darion recognized the young mayor of Keeptown; the highest official in the city whose authority was not derived from his own. Although relatively inexperienced, she was well aware of her unique position and not in the mood to mince words. "I demand an explanation!" she nearly shouted, and even Darion was taken aback for a second.

_"Is there no end to these ceaseless interruptions?" _Malark snarled._ "Just tell her to go away and carry some buckets."_

"An explanation for what?" Darion asked cautiously.

"For what? _For what?_ Are you joking?" For a few seconds, Skyll was at a loss for words, but caught herself quickly. "An entire quarter of town is burning, that's what! Or did that escape your notice?"

"I've just returned from leading the Keep's guard against the attackers, and we drove them off." In spite of the mayor's openly disrespectful tone, Darion did not reprimand her; he acknowledged the citizens' right to make inquiries and did not want to brush off Skyll entirely. "I did my duty to protect this town."

"No, you didn't! You failed in your duty the moment you started a needless war against not one, but two other races, and now the townsfolk have suffered the consequences. I told you exactly this would happen, but you and your pompous generals would not listen!" Now she was shouting.

"Skyll, look-"

"I'm not finished! To make things worse, you didn't even leave enough soldiers in the city to properly defend it!"

"We had to bring our full force to bear against the Gorons to keep that war as brief as possible!"

Skyll closed her eyes, pressed her palms against each other and took a deep breath. Her burning anger retreated below the surface, and when she opened her eyes again, she spoke with a carefully composed voice.

"Make no mistake, _Prince_ Darion: You do not rule by grace of the goddesses. You rule because there is an unwritten contract with the citizenry: We pay you taxes as well as homage, and you protect us from monsters and bandits and foreign armies. But if you don't hold up your end of the contract, then neither will we." Her face came close to his, and her brown eyes bored themselves into his skull. "Do we understand each other?"

_"Wait, is she actually threatening you? That woman has guts, I give her that."_

_It's all because I don't have the complete Triforce yet! If I had it, protecting the people would be the easiest thing in the world! How can I fulfill my duty if I don't have the tools to do so?_

_"Other kings did so without the Triforce,"_ Malark pointed out, no doubt more interested in humiliating Darion than in having an actual argument.

"There will be no more shortcomings in the future in regards to the city's safety," Darion spoke between his teeth. Hopefully, that would be enough to get this woman out of his face.

"I'll remember that promise," Skyll replied calmly. "Perhaps you know that my predecessors have implored your father to erect walls around the city for almost twenty years. They even had plans drawn up, but your father was too cheap, it seemed, and rejected them time and time again. These plans are still there, in a drawer in town hall. I plan to present them to you in the near future, and I'll expect you to be more enthusiastic than your father was."

"I will. Believe me." _Once I have the complete Triforce, it'll take merely a few words and the walls will spring up from the ground on their own! Let's see if you're still complaining then._

"I'll hold you to it," Skyll said and smiled a thin non-smile. "Well then, I have to talk to the town's undertakers. I'm sure you have important... stuff to do, too." She wrinkled her nose and looked up and down Darion's blood-stained clothes. "And change, will you? You look like a butcher." She did not bow when she left and walked out of the gate without looking back. Darion sighed in frustration and entered the Keep's main building, determined not to stop again until he reached the vault.

_"That was pathetic. Tell me again why you're letting her walk all over you?"_

_Because she was right, at least on principle. It's my duty to aid and protect the people. I know I have done some distasteful things in order to get the Triforce, but I haven't forgotten my reasons._

_"Oh, and there I thought you did it to have one last talk with your father. Perhaps I'm remembering things wrong?"_

_Spare me your sarcasm. I can have more than one reason. And my motives are still far better than yours, you genocidal maniac._

_"Now don't get insulting here. It's not like I want to wipe out you Hylians. Just enslave you. Turn the tables of history, so to speak. 'An eye for an eye', as they say."_

Darion reached the staircase leading down to the vault where the Triforce of Courage was awaiting its rightful owner. He smelled blood in the air, most likely from his stained clothes, and resolved to follow Skyll's advice and change after this.

_When did we 'enslave' you, anyway? If I remember my history lessons right, the Sheikah entered the services of the royal family willingly._

_"I have no doubt you remember them right. It's just that the lessons themselves were wrong. History is written by the victors, after all."_

_And what's that supposed to mean?_

_"Maybe I'll tell you someday, if I feel like it."_

Darion arrived at the bottom of the stairs and approached the wooden door leading into the vault's anteroom. As he seized the handle, he heard a splashing sound from below and looked at his feet. There was a small puddle on the floor, extending from inside the vault through beneath the door. Darion hesitated, dropped to one knee and put a finger into the puddle. It was blood.

_No. No. This can't be!_ He froze, knowing full well what the blood meant, but did not want to follow the thought to its conclusion.

_"Open the door you idiot. Now!"_

Without protest, Darion obeyed Malark's order, pushed down the handle and threw open the door. It was not the two dead guards whose blood covered almost the whole floor that made him scream – Darion had seen far worse, and inflicted far worse – but the bronze vault door that was gaping wide open.

"No! No!"

He leapt across the room, splashing blood with every step, reached the vault and began to frantically check its contents.

_"Stop wasting our time, you fool. What do you think they came to take? Your mother's pearl necklace?"_

Darion ignored Malark's mockery, but even though he inspected every shelf in the vault three times, the Triforce of Courage was nowhere to be found.

_It's gone. Gone._

_"It's not gone, it was stolen. Now stop panicking, for hell's sake. All we have to do is find the thieves, eviscerate them and take the Triforce piece back. Well, technically, we could skip the eviscerating, but that wouldn't be as much fun."_

_Stop mocking me!_

_"I'm mocking you, all right. Not only were you stupid enough to put the Triforce piece out of your hands against my warning, now that it's blown up into your face, you act like the world's come to an end. Stop being overly dramatic and get a grip."_

_You're one to talk. Who became almost catatonic when the Triforce first split?_

_"That was because we had no idea where it had gone. This is just a bunch of mundane thieves who can be tracked and found."_ Malark paused for a second, then continued. _"Actually, I have a hunch as to who they might be. Don't you, Darion?"_

_What? How should I – wait. Of course! It was those Gerudo!_

_"See, you can think, if you try."_

Seeking confirmation, Darion knelt down next to the corpses and inspected their wounds. They had been killed with blades heavy enough to pierce their chainmail, just like the sabres the two women had used to fight him.

"That settles it. It was them. Damn it all!"

Darion fumed with anger as he remembered the two Gerudo women in the white cloaks who had been sneaking around in the Keep for days. They had had a hand in his father's death, desecrated Malark's grave (admittedly a minor offence), threatened his brother's life and stolen the Ocarina of Time (which Arnu had found behind a bush in the courtyard three days later, and which was actually right here in the vault, little that he cared about it). But all these crimes paled in comparison to what they had done now.

"I should have killed them back then!" he blurted out and trudged out of the vault's anteroom up the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.

_"If memory serves, you tried and failed. Regardless, what are your plans now?"_

_I don't have to submit them to your approval._

_"No, but it helps. Face it, you're completely lost without me."_

_I'm going to investigate. Without your aid._

_"Suit yourself. I'll give you twenty minutes before you come crying for my help."_

Darion snorted and chose to drop the argument. Malark was being particularly obnoxious, no doubt because the loss of the Triforce piece affected him more than he was ready to admit. Determined to succeed, he first returned to the courtyard, where about fifty guards had assembled after being sent back to the Keep; apparently, the fires were under control and required less than the available manpower to put out. Majordomo Arx was also there, still wearing a nightgown and engaged in a heated argument with Arnu.

"Prince Darion!" both of them exclaimed when he approached them. "Where have you been?"

"No time," he said. "I need your help, now."

"You have but to ask," Arx offered, and Arnu nodded wordlessly.

"Something has been stolen from the Keep. Something quite valuable." More details were not necessary – after all, Darion had kept the true purpose of the war against the Gorons a secret, and so neither of them knew that it had even been in the Keep, if only for a short time.

"Arx, I want you to take as many of the men assembled here as it takes to search the Keep top to bottom," he commanded. "It's unlikely they're still hiding here, but it's not out of the question."

"Right away," the aged majordomo said. "But who are we looking for? And what was stolen?"

"The thieves are two female Gerudo."

Arx spat out. "Figures it would be desert scum."

"Two female Gerudo..." Arnu looked at the ground in surprise.

"What's the matter? Did you see them?" Darion asked.

"Uh... um. Uh," she muttered. It was the first time the prince had ever seen Arnu flustered.

_What's with her? She wouldn't be... no, not Arnu. She's above suspicion._

"I just thought... they must be the ones who you found in the graveyard. The ones you told me about?"

"Naturally," Darion nodded.

"Two female desert rats, understood," Arx said and saluted. "If they're still here, we'll find them. Anything else?"

"Yes, go to the stables and check whether all horses are accounted for. They may have stolen one to escape faster."

With his grating voice, Arx called out for three dozen guards and was on his way to search the Keep. Darion turned to Arnu. "You know what I want you to do?" he asked.

"Search for traces of magic, I assume," she said, and sounded as self-assured as ever. Whatever it was that had ticked her off, she was no longer bothered by it. "I'll start right away." She closed her eyes, concentrated, and did what he had told her to do. Darion turned to the remaining guards and ordered them to man the main and side gates as well as the lookout posts on the four towers. Once they, too, had gone, the courtyard was empty again except for Arnu, who opened her eyes soon enough and reported that no spell had been cast in the courtyard.

"Go down to the vault and check there too, as well as all corridors leading there. Oh, and don't slip on the blood." Arnu raised an eyebrow and departed, leaving Darion alone in the courtyard.

_Think. What else is there I could do? Think, man!_

Darion's thinking was interrupted by the loud cries of the aged majordomo who was returning from the stables and informed the prince that two horses were unaccounted for. Darion immediately scanned the unpaved parts of the courtyard for hoofprints, chiding himself for not doing so earlier, and quickly discovered two sets of tracks that split in separate directions. One of them led directly to the main gate, a stone's throw from where Darion was standing, while the other ended on the pavement and could not be tracked anymore.

_So they split up? They're crafty, I'll give them that._

He told Arx to withdraw most of the guards from the search, seeing as the thieves had vanished anyway, and ordered them to split in two groups. They were to leave the Keep through the two gates and question the people living nearby whether or not they had seen the escaping riders, and work their way along the trail.

Once they had left, all Darion could do was wait, and soon found himself pacing up and down in the courtyard, trying to keep his thoughts in order. Arnu returned after a while and reported that her search had not turned up the slightest trace of magic anywhere between the vault and the courtyard. Darion was actually rather pleased with that news, since an escape by conventional means meant there was a chance of capturing the thieves. After thanking Arnu for her assistance, he told her that there was nothing to do for her right now and she was free to leave.

"Actually, I have a question, Prince Darion," she said.

"By all means," the prince replied, though he hoped that she would not inquire about the nature of the stolen goods.

"Have you received news about the situation on Death Mountain? Have the Gorons surrendered the assassin, or will it come to fighting?"

_That's right, she doesn't know anything yet. Nobody does, except for a few. Oh well, the news will spread around soon enough._

"Regrettably, King Grangus proved to be rather stubborn and refused to hand over the criminal. The fighting already started yesterday afternoon."

If Arnu was displeased by that revelation, she did not show it, although Darion knew that she could not be too happy about it.

"I was... we were prepared for that outcome. It is regrettable, as you said. I hope the bloodshed will be limited."

"Oh, absolutely. I have good news for you in that regard. Thanks to the superior strategy of our forces, the battle was short, and ended with a decisive victory on our part."

"It's over already?" Arnu's eyes widened in surprise. "Lohgrimm's boasting wasn't without merit, then. So they accosted the assassin who tried to kill you? He might be part of a greater conspiracy that also targeted your father and sister. And then there's the matter of the Triforce mark on his hand... although that could have been forged in order to gain access to your person. I would like to interrogate him."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Darion replied casually. "He was killed during the fighting."

"That's bad," Arnu said and bit her lower lip. "Although I guess some things can't be helped. Still, that leaves us with no other leads on the conspiracy..." She looked up. "So what about the Triforce mark on his hand? Was it real?"

"Uh, no. It was a fake, designed to fool the guards, just as you said."

_She doesn't have to know about that, or she might get suspicious about the 'assassination attempt'. And once I have the Triforce, the matter will be moot anyway, and I can stop deceiving her._

"This is frustrating," Arnu said. "So we have to wait until the next assassin appears and hope that he'll be caught alive? And on top of it, we have to expect more terror attacks like this one? What have we done to deserve this? I know that the Zora are treaty-bound to aid the Gorons, but this..." She shook her head in resignation and sighed loudly. "Narala was always cold and unscrupulous when it came to her duties as queen, but I'd never thought she could be this... extreme."

"It goes without saying that we'll have to retaliate against this aggression," Darion said without trying to hide his anger. Arnu's reaction was, of course, predictable.

"I can imagine how you feel about the people who died today, Prince Darion, but you must not let your wrath guide you. If you want to douse the flames of war – and you should – then you must choose clemency over revenge, in spite of what your feelings tell you."

_Yes, I know all about vengeance begetting vengeance, but some crimes cannot remain unpunished. The Zora will have to be taught a lesson, and whoever becomes their new queen after Narala is dead had best pay close attention._

"By the time our soldiers arrive at Zora's Domain, they'll have learned about what happened here, and they will burn with righteous fury against Narala and her people," Darion said coolly. "I dare no predictions about what they will do."

"Why do I have the feeling that this won't end well." Arnu shuddered visibly and fell silent for a while. She seemed to have nothing more to say.

"If you want to leave, you're free to go. I'll be waiting here for news on the thieves."

"All right. I'll be in my room." Arnu turned to leave, then hesitated. "Oh, by the way," she asked, "what was it that was stolen from the vault?"

"Uh... a memento of my mother. Among a few other, less noteworthy items."

"That's strange. I took the liberty to take a glimpse into the vault, and the most valuable objects are still there. Why would the thieves take... oh well, it's best not to dwell on their motivation. Ahem."

_That's strange. She gets flustered every time the thieves come up. Hm, but if it stops her from inquiring more about the stolen item, it's all the better._

"I've also taken the Ocarina of Time, at least for now." She produced the small blue instrument that Darion knew held significant magical power. "I thought it was unwise to just leave it lying there, in the unguarded vault." She smirked when she pocketed it again. "I haven't played in a long time. Perhaps I will polish up my skills."

"Yes, good thinking," Darion muttered. No matter how powerful the ocarina was, its power paled in comparison to the Triforce, and so he did not really care that much about it. "I'll see you around, then."

Once Arnu had left, Darion resumed pacing up and down the courtyard, impatiently waiting for news about the brazen Triforce thieves. After fifteen minutes had passed, several of the soldiers who had left through the side gate returned and brought the news that a young Hylian in green clothes had been spotted riding away from the Keep, and later near the town's barracks, but after that, there had been no more sightings.

_Green clothes? That doesn't ring any bells. He might be an accomplice, or just a random horse thief. But I don't think these greedy Gerudo would haven given the Triforce to a Hylian, so there's probably no connection at all. I'll just leave him be for the moment._

The men investigating the second horse's route returned much later, about forty minutes after their initial departure, and their findings were far more interesting: Two hooded figures wearing white cloaks, riding on a black horse, had been sighted by a great number of townsfolk on their way due south. The soldiers had traced their way back across the paved roads to the point there they had entered the grassy plains of Hyrule Field, where their tracks had become visible once more. They regretted to inform him, however, that the tracks led only to the point where Zora river passed through southwest Hyrule Field close to Keeptown and vanished at the river bank. They concluded that the thieves had followed the shallow river bed for a while and re-emerged at a random point upstream or downstream and continued their escape from there, and that finding that point would be nigh impossible for even the most skilled trackers.

_They're crafty_, Darion admitted once again. _But it's not like I don't know where they're going. There's no place for a desert rat to hide except the desert. All I have to do is send riders to the desert entrance and pick up their tracks again._

_"Oh, very smart,"_ Malark suddenly said, ending his conspicuously long (and soothing) period of silence. _"Have you ever been to that desert? There's a fierce wind blowing, hot during the day, icy during the night. No hoof print will last more than ten minutes there, at most."_

_You are ever the constructive one, Malark_, Darion replied, trying to hide the fact that the dead wizard had a point with sarcasm.

_"Absolutely. Care to ask me for help?"_

_You have a way to trace them? Some kind of magic?_

_"Nothing so intricate. A sensitive nose will do."_

_A nose? What are you talking about? Not even a dog or wolf could track their scent in the desert. You said it yourself – the wind blows it away._

_"No, not entirely. The wind will blow the hoof prints away, and most of the sand. But not all of it, not immediately. A trail will remain, no matter how faint, ast least for a few days. It just takes a nose more sensitive than that of a mere dog or wolf."_

_And you know where to find one?_

_"As a matter of fact, I do."_

_What kind of creature is it?_

_"You'll see soon enough. That is, if you can bring yourself to follow my instructions."_

Darion was suspicious, of course – how could anyone not be, in his position? But he knew that, no matter how depraved and insane Malark was, the two of them shared one goal – reuniting the Triforce, and the dead wizard would do anything in his power to achieve that goal. After that, they'd be enemies again, but until then...

_All right, I agree. But you better deliver results. What shall I do?_

Malark directed Darion to his old room in the Keep; a surprisingly large, rectangular chamber with a high ceiling and no windows. It was situated close to the throne room, which made sense to him, considering Malark had been his father's top advisors

Since the dead wizard could only see what Darion saw, the prince directed his gaze wherever it was that Malark wished to see. Like Arnu's room, his was filled with a great number of dusty tomes (Darion wondered idly how many of those might be duplicates), countless small bottles and boxes filled with liquids and powders, and, most striking, a skull of each of Hyrule's six races nailed to a board on the wall opposite the door, with different-coloured gemstones set in their eye sockets.

_Charming interior decoration. It suits you._

_"Don't waste time babbling. Check the shelves on the right. Any crystal orbs there? Hm, no. As expected – a certain ungrateful student of mine pilfered all of my spellspheres. Or so she thought. Take a chair and drag it to where the skulls are. Now, climb up and press the gems in the order I tell you."_

_You mean there are switches behind the eyes?_

_"Precisely. The order is Goron right eye, Zora left, Hylian left, Kokiri right, Gerudo right, Sheikah left."_

_Wait, not so fast. Goron, Zora... Hylian is the one with the topaz?_

_"Yes, the one with the slightly smaller skull than the Sheikah, to accommodate the smaller brain."_

_Very funny._

_"I'm being completely serious. Ask Arnu if you don't believe me."_

_All right, now the Kokiri... don't tell me you actually killed one of the forest children?_

_"Don't be ridiculous, I didn't kill these myself."_

_That's a relief._

_"I had somebody do it for me, naturally. Now, hurry. Gerudo right eye, Sheikah left."_

_Uh... the two final skulls look exactly the same._

_"But the gemstones don't. Gerudo is the spessarite."_

_The what?_

_"Oh, for hell's sake, it's the orange gemstone. Sheikah is the amethyst."_

_Yes, thank you, I could have guessed the last one by myself._

Darion completed the sequence by pressing his finger against the dark purple gemstone in the Sheikah skull's left eye, and the wooden board slid along the wall, revealing a hidden alcove containing several glass or crystal spheres filled with colourful, billowing smoke.

_"Careful now, you don't want to make things more difficult. Do you see that crystal sphere with the light blue smoke on the right? Don't touch it yet!"_

_I wasn't about to._

_"Go find a piece of cloth and wrap it around the sphere, then take it out."_

Darion found a pile of spare robes, all of them identical black and tore off the hood of one of them; the crystal sphere fit in neatly.

_"Good, now just push the wooden board back until it clicks into place and we're done here."_

_Where to now?_

_"Someplace where no people are. Preferably close to the thieves' trail. And don't drop that sphere! Its the only one of its kind. And take one of my spare robes before you leave."_

Darion shook his head, frustrated that he was, for the moment, reduced to playing the dead wizard's errand boy, and left the room, and soon after, the Keep. Following Malark's advice, he donned the spare robe in order to hide his identity from the townsfolk whom he passed by, all the while carrying the mysterious sphere. He left town at the very same spot where the thieves had left and found their tracks immediately, then followed them until he reached Zora river, where they vanished in the river bed just as he had been told. The outskirts of Keeptown were still visible in the distance, but nobody had followed him, nor would anybody be able to identify him even if they had.

_"Good. Now put the spellsphere on the ground, unwrap it and put your hands on it for ten seconds or so."_

_First tell me what it does_, Darion demanded, distrustful of whatever magic was contained within.

_"Fine, since you asked so nicely. There's a personalized recall spell inside. It's like a teleportation spell, except it transports a person to the user from anywhere in Hyrule."_

_How does it know who to recall?_

_"It has been keyed to one specific person, and it will only transport him – that is, with all his clothes and weapons, naturally. It's a very useful spell, as you can imagine, so I put it into this sphere for convenience."_

_But I thought we needed an animal with a strong nose, not a person._

_"Trust me for once, Darion. You'll be surprised."_

_Gods, why am I doing this?_

Darion put the spellsphere on the grassy ground, removed the hood and, after one last moment of hesitation, put his hands on it. To his surprise, its smooth, crystalline surface was warm to the touch. Then again, there was a magic spell inside, or so Malark had claimed, so who knew what kind of properties that orb had. He waited for ten seconds, but nothing happened.

_"It can take a little longer sometimes. It depends on the distance and also the equipment carried by the person recalled. Just don't let go of the sphere, and he'll arrive soon enough."_

Malark had barely finished his last sentence when the 'person' in question arrived in front of them – without a crack of thunder or a flash of light, not even a ripple in the air. The figure simply appeared, just like that. Or rather, in spite of Malark's announcement that there would be only one, two figures did.

One of them was a walking skeleton wearing a gold-plated helmet – a Stalfos Knight. Darion had never seen one in the flesh (admittedly a poor choice of words), although he recalled the recent incident in Gadrin village where hundreds of the skeletal warriors had been raised at once.

Even so, the Stalfos could not hold Darion's attention for longer than it took his eyes to glance over the second figure: It was at least two heads taller than Darion and more muscular as well. Dirty plate armour covered most of its body, although it did not wear a helmet. A massive spear was slung over its back, and several Hylian skulls were tied to the shaft. Its brown-skinned face was that of a pig: A massive snout, large, drooping ears and small, but intelligent eyes. Darion recognized the creature immediately.

"N-no," he stuttered. "That can't be!"

The Moblin was understandably disoriented from the sudden teleportation, but he obviously realized what had happened to him, because he surveyed his surroundings with rapid speed, turning his massive head back and forth with astonishing ease.

"I hate it when you do that," he said to no one in particular, then his gaze met Darion's. He blinked once, then a second time. Then he erupted in slobbering laughter, showering Darion's face in saliva.

"The little prince! What a surprise! I knew we meet again. I just knew."

_Malark, what is this?_

_"Huh, don't you recognize him? That is Unthok, the Moblin King."_

_I know who he is, but I can't believe it! You are in league with that murderous fiend? This is low even for you!_

_"No, not quite. You see, 'being in league' with someone implies a relationship between equals. With regards to Unthok, 'being at my beck and call' would be more accurate."_

_So everything he's ever done to my people, he did at your command?_

_"Of course not. What would I have to gain from raiding peasant villages? Unthok merely performs the occasional service for me. Outside of that, he is his own master."_

"Hello? Princeling, are you there?" Unthok had planted himself in front of Darion and waved his meaty hand in front of his face, while the Stalfos simply stared at them from expressionless eye sockets. Darion flinched and rose to his feet, waving his arms to gain a semblance of balance.

"You're the wizard's friend. I didn't know." Unthok's voice was inappropriately jovial, as though he had just met an old Moblin acquaintance, not a man with whom he had once fought to the death. Being called a friend of Malark by none other than the Moblin King was simply too absurd for his mind to accept, and so Darion did the only thing a reasonable man would do in the presence of a Moblin: He drew his sword.

"You want to fight?" Unthok sounded confused. "But then why call me?"

_"You will do no such thing, Darion. Don't you get it? Unthok will find the Triforce piece for us!"_

_He? What? No... This is ridiculous!_

_"Is it? Just look at his glorious snout! With that, he'll sniff the scent of the thieves' horse in no time and relieve them of their stolen goods. That is what you want, isn't it?"_

Since he clearly did not know what to make of the prince who stood before him, his sword drawn but making no move, Unthok chose to ignore him. He put his hands before his mouth and shouted: "Wizard, are you there? Like, invisible? Don't play tricks on me. I hate tricks."

_"You have to explain our... arrangement to him. I'd love to do it myself, but he can't hear me."_

Darion nodded mechanically; at least with Malark, he understood what he wanted from him. Still, having a friendly chat with Unthok, who had killed more of his countrymen than any other living thing in Hyrule, when all he wanted to do was cut him to pieces... that was too much to ask.

_"Just go ahead and talk to him, you idiot. I'm not asking you to kiss him. If you tell him what you want, I personally guarantee he'll deliver the Triforce of Courage to you within three days or less. Isn't that worth putting aside your pesky morals for a moment? You have done worse things, you know."_

Darion was not so sure about that, but the rest of Malark's argument had merit. The Moblin King was certainly a formidable fighter – he had learned that first-hand – and if his tracking abilities lived up to Malark's claims... why not give it a try?

"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "You there. Unthok. Lend me your ears."

"So you can still talk." Unthok graced him with what must be considered a smile among Moblins. "That makes me so happy. Where is the wizard?"

"Yes, well, I was just about to explain that."

And so Darion explained to Unthok the strange and entirely involuntary 'arrangement' between himself and Malark, and told him he was expected to pick up the thieves' scent at the desert entrance and steal back the Triforce piece. To his surprise, the Moblin King did not ask a single question, but simply nodded once Darion's explanation had come to a close.

"I'll do it. But first I want some proof."

"Pardon me?"

"Your story is interesting, and much too strange for a lie. Or is it?" Unthok pointed at Darion's waist. "You say the wizard is in there? And he talks to you? Prove it." He grinned. "Should be easy."

"Isn't the fact that I have this orb proof enough?" Darion asked without hiding his irritation.

"No. You could be a thief. A princely thief."

_Of all the insults...!_

_"Relax and listen to me, Darion. I'll tell you what to say to him. Just repeat it word for word, and it'll be fine."_

"I can't just obey you. Not without proof. That would be stupid, and I'm not stupid."

"Do what he says," Darion repeated Malark's words, "or I'll find a way out of here and light up your stinking hind quarters like I did eleven years ago, only this time I'll forego the courtesy of showering you with ice shards to put it out again."

Unthok snorted and laughed, forcing Darion to dodge his saliva. "That sounds like him," he said. "And only he knows about that fight." He looked at Darion with an almost comically serious expression. "He's stronger than me. The only one who is. So I do what he says."

Unthok's words gave Darion an inkling of what had happened between the Sheikah Sage and the Moblin King eleven years ago. He remembered his own excruciating experience from when he had fought Malark within his mind, and wondered whether there was anybody out there whom he could not defeat.

_"I hope that's a rhetorical question. Now, before you send Unthok away, I want you to ask something for me."_

"How come that this Stalfos teleported along with you?" Darion repeated Malark's words. "That particular spell can only ever transport one person. No exceptions."

"Why ask me that? I'm not the expert on magic here." Unthok rolled his eyes, which Darion found unsettling: It was a gesture fit for a person, not a monster.

"What's it about that Stalfos anyway?" Darion asked.

"He belongs to me," Unthok replied. "A gift from the wizard." He grinned and lowered his head. "Thanks for the gift!" he told Darion's waist. "He still works fine. I hope he doesn't break too soon."

_"Ah, perhaps that's it. Since the Stalfos is bound to the will of the one who raised him, and since Unthok considers him an item in his possession, it makes sense that he would be transported along with him. Fascinating."_

_I have no idea what you're talking about. Can we send them away now? They're giving me the creeps._

_"Why are you asking me? You're speaking for both of us here. Give the word, and they'll go."_

_Right._

"Go now, Unthok. Catch those thieves and bring me the golden triangle." The Moblin King nodded. "Do not lose it!" Darion added. The thought of the Triforce piece being forever lost somewhere in the desert was more than he could bear.

"Just you wait." Unthok called out to the Stalfos. "You heard it, boneman. Time for work."

The Stalfos, who had watched the entire scene from its empty eye sockets, suddenly leapt toward Darion and knelt before him.

"Please kill me!" he begged Darion before his master could react. His voice was strangely sonorous for a skeleton that lacked vocal chords, and it bespoke terrible despair. "I implore you, put me out of my misery! You're a Hylian like myself, you must take pity on me!"

"Shut up." Unthok walked up behind the Stalfos and punched his skull. The skeletal warrior fell over and lay still. He did not utter another word.

"Don't kill him," the Moblin King warned Darion. "I'll be mad if you do. Really mad." But Darion was too shocked by the Stalfos' sudden outburst to even consider his request, let alone Unthok's threat. All he could to was lower his head slighter, which might generously be interpreted as a nod.

"Get up," Unthok said, and the Stalfos obeyed. "We hunt a horse," he continued. "We have to be fast. Faster than you can run, so climb up."

The Stalfos whimpered and climbed the Moblin King's broad back and wrapped his arms around his massive neck; a sight which managed to surpass anything Darion had seen in his life in sheer absurdity. The Stalfos gave the prince a last tortured look and then the Moblin King and his unwilling passenger raced toward the west faster than any horse.

_That Stalfos said he was once a Hylian. And his helmet looked kind of familiar. I wonder what his story is._

_"Do not bother yourself with the plights of the dead while the living demand your attention."_

_Wow. Right there, you sounded like the old Malark. When you were alive, I mean. I liked you better then._

_"My, what a gaffe. Allow me to do better. Ahem. Prince Darion, you're a spineless, self-centred hypocrite. I detest you. I detest my momentary dependence on you. The day I'll take control of your body will be the happiest day of my life. How's that?"_

_You can't provoke me right now, I'm still too confused. Is this all really happening? Am I really working with Unthok?_

_"Think of your sterling reputation if anyone were to learn about that!"_

_Yeah. Too bad you can't talk to anyone except me._

_"Too bad, indeed, Darion. Too bad indeed."_

Seized by a strange melancholy, Darion watched Unthok and his skeletal slave become smaller and smaller until they vanished on the horizon. Then he discarded the now useless black robe, re-wrapped the spellsphere and silently walked back toward Keeptown.


	27. Knight Terrors

**Chapter 27: Knight Terrors**

It was in the late afternoon when the soldiers who had set fire to Keeptown had returned to Zora's Domain by swimming upstream Zora River, a method of travel far faster than walking or riding. Their plan had been a partial success: The fire had caused significant damage, but the Hylians' reaction had come much sooner than anticipated. Once the number of casualties had risen, the soldiers had retreated just as Narala had ordered. However, whether the attack would really convince Darion to call his forces home from Death Mountain was yet to be seen. She decided to send a scouting party to Death Mountain, hoping that they could somehow circumvent the mounted knights blocking their path, to ascertain whether the plan had worked.

_They did not do as much damage as I hoped_, she thought, sitting on her throne by herself._ But perhaps it's better this way – with the better part of Keeptown still intact, there'll be a reason to protect it._

Narala ordered her troops to rest for the remainder of the day and depart for a second attack during the night. The Hylians would be prepared this time – that was unavoidable – but if they approached the city from a different angle and under the cover of darkness, they should be able to create another conflagration.

_If we repeat this night after night, and the Gorons delay long enough, Darion will have no choice but to call parts of his army back from Death Mountain. If he doesn't, his entire hometown will be reduced to ashes in less than a week._

"Queen Narala!" a guardsman came into the throne room and interrupted her morbid predictions, "messengers from the Gorons have just arrived!"

_How convenient. With news from the battle against the Hylians , no doubt._

"Delay the departure of the scouting party," Narala ordered quickly. "It may well be that we don't need them to go after all."

"And the messengers?"

"Have them come before me at once! That should be obvious."

"Of course, my Queen. I am sorry."

"Don't waste time being sorry. Just go and do as you're told."

With a dejected look on his face, the guardsman hurried and was on his way, leaving Narala to wonder why she had been so irritable.

_Perhaps the messengers bring bad news? No... even if Goron City were to fall, it would not be so soon._

_Then why do I have a bad feeling about this?_

_It's because of that guard... he looked a bit unnerved. As if he saw something that upset him._

Minutes passed without the messengers' arrival, and the resulting impatience only added fuel to the fire of Narala's growing irritation.

_Relax. Take a deep breath. They're not likely to get lost on the way to the throne room._

They finally arrived after five more minutes of waiting: Three Gorons and two Zora guards at their sides. Two of the Gorons were clearly warriors: tall, muscle-bound young men with a fierce, determined look on their faces, tempered by a hint of sadness that made Narala grow tense. The third Goron, who was flanked by the other two, was older and smaller than them, though still bulkier than practically any Zora Narala knew. His gait was slow and his posture a bit ducked, and one of his companions was leading him by the hand, which explained why they had taken so long. He wore a blindfold over his eyes, which in turn explained why he was being led by the hand. Because of the blindfold and the fact that she had not seem him for two years, Narala had to stare at him for several seconds until she recognized him as her peer: Grangus, King of the Gorons.

_What in the world happened to him? And why is he here, and not in his besieged home?_

She knew the answer to that: Though he was no warrior, there was no way the Goron King would leave his people while they were under attack. Which meant the battle had already come to an end – and his posture left little doubt about the outcome... or did it?

_I'm jumping to conclusions. That's not like me._

"Grangus!" she called out, foregoing formalities as she usually did with him; even though she had only been queen for three years, she had met the Goron King several times before during her father's reign and the two had come to hold each other in high esteem.

"Narala? Yes, I recognize your voice."

The Zora Queen cringed when she heard Grangus speak; in fact, she could barely recognize his voice. It was little more than a cracked whisper, a far cry from the confident rumbling voice she knew. She rose from her throne and approached her friend and fellow ruler, whose sightless stare followed her steps until she stood before him. He looked even worse from up close: His face seemed permanently contorted in pain, and the trails of dried blood leading from beneath his blindfold down his cheeks only added to the ghastly sight.

"What in the world..." Narala waved her guards out of the room, and the two Gorons followed reluctantly, taking a last, concerned glance at their king before they left.

"What happened to your eyes?"

"Later." Grangus lifted his palms, fending off her inquiry. "First, you have to know that the better part of the Hylian army left Kakariko early this morning and is on its way here. My escort and I rolled past them to bring you the dire news."

"What about the battle?"

"We were successful in holding off the main army, but a small number of soldiers entered the city and found both Kokron and myself." Grangus lowered his head in shame. "The Triforce of Courage is lost to us."

Faced with these dire news, only Narala's well-practised emotional restraint prevented her from crying out in fear and frustration.

_This was not supposed to happen! This was-_

_Remain calm. It happened. We have to deal with it._

"I understand." She understood only too well; understood that her Triforce of Wisdom was now the only piece not in Darion's possession. The stakes had been raised yet again in this dangerous game she, Zelda and Kokron had been playing.

_And I'm the only one left of the original players... that is, unless Kokron was only taken prisoner. Do I dare to ask?_

She dared not. "You didn't have to come in person!" she protested instead. "You look terrible!"

"No, I had to come. I had to warn you." Grangus' voice, still difficult to understand, now had taken on a sombre, foreboding tone. "Darion and his hatchetmen... there is no line they will not cross. They will attack you soon, with the full strength of their army. Your name, your standing... they won't protect you. Your life is worth nothing to Darion. If you cannot win, you must flee, or you will die."

"I understand," Narala said. "But you simply could have sent your messengers-"

"No!" Grangus cawed forcefully. "No. I had to come in person. Not just to warn you, but also... to beg your forgiveness."

"What for?"

"Don't you see?" he asked, and his voice sounded even more pained than before. "It is because of me that they are on their way here. Only Kokron and I knew that you carry the third Triforce piece, and he died defending that knowledge."

"Kokron... is dead." Of course he was. If Darion was willing to go to war over the Triforce piece, he would not hesitate to order the bearer's death. Although he had been a pompous braggart, his straightforward honesty had made a lasting impression on Narala. He was an ally who would be sorely missed.

"Yes, he's dead, but at least he died a hero. Me, on the other hand... I have to live with the shame of having betrayed your secret."

"Hero? Shame?" Narala awkwardly tried to cheer him up. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"Yes, I thought I was too cynical and sophisticated to believe in concepts like heroism. But I was wrong, because when push came to shove, Kokron kept silent, and I didn't."

"Stop it! It's already bad enough without you punishing yourself!"

Grangus ignored her feeble attempts to console him. "I'm so sorry, Narala, but this man... he..." The Goron King tore off his blindfold, revealing the grisly sight of his ruined eyeballs that were little more than scarred orbs of red and white. "He did _this_ to my eyes," he screamed and pointed at them with a finger, "and then he told me my tongue would be next, and then my ears, and then-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Narala yelled, turning away from the gruesome sight. "Nothing of it was your fault. I swear to you, Darion will pay for this." Even as she made this promise, Narala had no idea how to keep it; had no idea whether she would even survive the next few days. Making gratuitous announcements such as this was not like her.

_Nobody is like themselves anymore. We're all being deformed by the pressure Darion is putting on us._

"You don't have to console me like a child," Grangus said bitterly. "I know it was my fault." He bent down and dragged his hands across the floor around him until he found the discarded blindfold, picked it up and covered his ruined eyes once again, something Narala was grateful for. "My failure as an ally."

Narala sighed and decided to leave the question of guilt be for the time being, lest she alienate the suffering Goron King. The time to heal would come – assuming they survived – but this was not the time. She decided to steer the conversation back on the safe footing of practicality. "How far away is the Hylian army?" she asked.

"They left their staging area at dawn, and we followed them an hour after that. We saw them..." He laughed bitterly. "My men saw them when we uncurled for the third time to check our bearings. Judging from their marching speed, they'll arrive before nightfall."

"We'll be ready for them by that time," Narala said. There would be no second raid on Keeptown, of course – she would need every single soldier on the defence. "They were bound to attack us anyway, since I launched a surprise assault on Keeptown."

"You did? Good. Very good." Narala detected more than a little satisfaction in Grangus' voice, and disliked it greatly, although she could not fault him for it. "The only way to defeat this menace is to not hold back. Darion discarded all qualms and morals... even if we hate ourselves for it, we cannot beat him without stooping to his level."

_Stooping to his level? Is that what I did?_

_Yes, I can't deny it. I consigned countless Hylian civilians to death. And I will do so again if I have to. Darion has only to blame himself, because he started this war._

Narala would not have accepted 'he started it' as a valid excuse if it had come from two quarrelling children. But it was the only excuse she could come up with, and so it would have to do until she had time to come up with something better. Right now, she had a thousand things to consider.

"I need more information about that army. Numbers, tactics, equipment... anything that could help our defence."

"And you'll have them. My two companions fought in the front line the entire time. One of them will stay behind and answer all of your questions." Grangus sighed apologetically. "Other than that, there isn't much help I can offer you at the moment. A good portion of the enemy has remained in Kakariko and fortified the entrance, cutting us off from Hyrule Field. My escort and I barely managed to escape through the tunnels before the Sheikah collapsed the entrance... I don't know yet how we'll be able to sneak back in. We'll do whatever we can to break their defences and aid you, but..." His voice trailed off.

"You cannot promise anything," Narala continued his sentence. "I understand."

"If it were merely up to me, I would swear that we'll break through, that we'll come to your help," Grangus said, "but war has a way of making liars of us all." He sighed deeply. "I would leave you now, unless there is something I can do for you. If so, don't hesitate to speak up."

Narala tried hard to come up with something uplifting, with a request the battered Goron King could fulfill, but she could think of nothing. After several moments of silence, Grangus weakly called out for his companions, and they re-entered the room. One of them offered his arm to his king, while the other bowed before Narala and put himself at her disposal in regards to information about the Hylian army. She told him to wait right there and turned again to Grangus. "Will you be safe on your way back?" she asked.

"We Gorons can't use our eyes while curled up. As long as I'm rolling, I won't be at a disadvantage. As for the Hylian army, we will travel off the main route to Death Mountain, so we should not run into them. For now, I bid you farewell."

"Farewell," Narala replied. "And do not despair. This war isn't over."

"I hear you," Grangus said as he was led out of the throne room, and Narala convinced herself that there had been a hint of hope in his words.

_So where does all of this leave us?_ Narala sighed and assessed the situation. Her strategy had failed. The Gorons had lost too quickly for her terror attack to make a difference – and, given the poor performance of her own troops against the Keep's guard unit, she was no longer positive that it would have made a difference even if they had lasted longer.

_We're not a warlike people, damn it! We shouldn't have to fight at all. But there's no turning back, not now that Darion knows._

_I mustn't waste time complaining to fate. Preparations must be made!_

Determined to do her duty and safeguard her people against the coming attack, Narala summoned the leaders of the army as well as her majordomo into her throne room. Once they had assembled, she relayed the bad news and ordered them to plan the defence or Zora's Domain. To their credit, they wasted little time being shocked and proceded to extract information from the remaining Goron, who willingly obliged. The questions soon became technical, focusing on armaments, formations and other military minutiae, so Narala turned to the aged majordomo Erliss whom she had summoned for a specific reason.

"We have to assume that the Hylians will not spare civilians during their attack, so I want you to evacuate all women, children and men who cannot fight. They are to take the underground waterway to Lake Hylia and hide in the Water Temple, where they should be as safe as anywhere." The Water Temple, originally a place of worship built many generations ago, had served the Zora as sanctuary during military conflicts before, and would be able to accommodate most, if not all of the civilian population.

"It will get cramped, but we should be able to fit most of them inside," Erliss confirmed. "A wise precaution."

Several of the commanders appeared slighted by the evacuation order, possibly interpreting it as a sign that their queen lacked confidence in them. Narala could not help it: She was not ready to endanger the lives of her subjects, and her daughter, for the sake of a few men's injured pride. Erliss assured her that the evacuation would be complete before the attacking army arrived and left the throne room to organize the mass exodus to Lake Hylia, and Narala knew the task to be in good hands. Erliss was old, but reliable, having served three generations of Zora rulers.

_Here's to hoping that he won't be serving Queen Nari anytime soon. After all, I have to stay here and share the danger with the soldiers. Anything else would be unacceptable, and a blow to morale._

Now that she had given all of her orders, there was not much left for Narala to do at this point in time. Her military commanders were busy at work formulating a defensive strategy, and she knew better than to meddle in their area of expertise. She merely gave them some broad directives, such as using the narrow tunnels of Zora's Domain to their advantage (she silenced the nagging voice reminding her that the Gorons had failed to capitalize on similar topography) and setting lethal traps for the invaders, in the hope that caution and fear would slow down their progress once the first soldiers had died.

The suggestion was made to simply flood all of Zora's Domain by re-routing the river, but she decided that risk was too great: They had learned from the Goron that Sheikah battle mages were marching with the Hylian army, and their ability to conjure and manipulate fire was well known. If they managed to heat the water enough to make it boil, all the defenders would suffer an agonizing death.

"Queen Narala," the highest-ranking commander asked, "from where will you be directing our efforts? Shall we fortify the throne room?"

"No, that would be a waste of manpower," she replied. "I will go to the fountain. After all, Lord Jabu-Jabu is there, and he will need protection anyway. The less soldiers remain behind to guard soft targets, the better."

The commander approved of her choice and assured her that three dozen warriors would guard the queen and the deity, a number Narala thought excessive and haggled down to no more than ten. After all, the fountain lay in the farthest reaches of Zora's Domain, and if the enemy made it there, all would be lost anyway, since Lord Jabu-Jabu could not move his enormous body away from there even if he wanted to.

_But what will we do if defeat becomes certain? Abandon Lord Jabu-Jabu?_

Narala knew better than to speak that thought aloud, for not even the queen could suggest such a thing. Jabu-Jabu had been the Zoras' guardian deity for centuries, and although she had often wondered just how he had managed to earn that distinction, considering that he never actually _did_ anything, he was much beloved and revered by her people. But if the Hylians captured her and brought Darion the final Triforce piece, the consequences for all of Hyrule were unforeseeable.

_Why am I already thinking about nothing but defeat? It's a possibility, and it's wise to acknowledge it. But it's not the only possibility!_

There was no point in worrying about it now. Messengers would keep her well informed once the fighting had begun, so she could still decide to flee when the tides of battle turned against them. With multiple tiered defensive lines, there should be enough time for her to reach one of the access points to the underground waterway and escape to Lake Hylia if it came to that.

"Your highness." Majordomo Erliss suddenly reappeared in the throne room. "I have commenced the evacuation according to your orders. As long as the people proceed in due order, they should all reach safety before the Hylians arrive."

"Very good." At least the majority of those entrusted to her care would not suffer any harm, no matter the outcome of the battle.

"Also," the majordomo continued in his usually formal tone, "Princess Nari has requested emphatically to see you."

_Yes, she would do that. It's a shame I always have so little time for her._

"I'll meet her in the antechamber," Narala said, hoping for at least a little privacy. "Call me immediately if there are any new developments," she told her assembled commanders and entered the small chamber adjacent to the throne room where visitors usually waited before being admitted to see her.

_What will I tell her? Hmpf, the truth, obviously. She can't succeed me one day if I shield her from reality. But she's still so young..._

The door was opened and a guard appeared in the frame, announcing the arrival of the royal princess. While he was still speaking, the small figure of a young girl squeezed herself through the gap between his body and the wall and dashed into the room. Tears were flying from her clear, blue eyes – not Narala's eyes, but the eyes of her father, always a bittersweet reminder of the late royal consort. For some reason, the sight made her recall the scarred, useless eyes of King Grangus, and she cringed in horror of what Darion's thugs might do to her daughter if they ever got their hands on her.

"Mommy!" Nari cried and threw herself at her mother's legs. The guard gave the queen an apologetic look, and she signalled him to leave them alone. "I'm here, Nari," she said and knelt down to embrace her daughter's small, frail body. "It's all right. Don't cry."

"But the other children are crying, too!" her daughter sobbed. "They don't want to go away! I don't want to go away!"

"You're different from the other children," Narala gently said. It was a fact that Nari had to learn as soon as possible, difficult though it might be for her to accept. "You're the princess. You and me, we are only allowed to cry when nobody is around." _But there's almost always somebody around. That's the problem, isn't it?_

"Yes, mommy," Nari sniffed and wiped her face dry using the hem of her mother's scarlet gown. "But the soldiers said we all have to go away!"

"You're not going away for long. I'll do my best so you can all return real soon. And you know my best isn't too shabby, right?"

"I want to stay with mommy," her daughter insisted.

"You can't," Narala said with soft finality. "It's too dangerous. There will be fighting here."

"Fighting? Are bad men trying to hurt you, mommy?"

_Ah, if only it were so simple._

_Actually, it is. Darion's soldiers are coming to kill me. That's the truth._

"Yes, they want to hurt me. But our soldiers won't let them."

"Then come with us! We can all go away so the bad men won't find you!" Nari demanded. She made it sound so easy, almost like a viable option...

"No, I can't run away. At least not while there is a chance of winning."

"If you win, can we come back?" Nari asked hopefully. "Yes," Narala replied.

"And... if you lose?"

Narala pictured herself on the run, a queen who had deserted the ancestral home and the guardian deity of her people, hiding from Daron's bloodhound's, shunned by enemy and friend alike. If that happened, her last remaining option was to flee Hyrule forever and hide herself and the Triforce of Wisdom in a distant land. She would never see her daughter again, and Nari would be forced to become the ruler of a defeated people at age three... assuming the Zora would even accept the daughter of a failed queen.

"Tell me!" Nari demanded and tugged at her mother's gown. "Can we still come back if you lose?"

_I've never lied to her, or hidden the truth, in spite of her age. I can't start now, or she'll hate me forever._

"You can return home even if we lose," she said. To the best of her knowledge, that was true; after all, the Hylians had not occupied Goron City, either. "But if that happens, I won't be here anymore." As Narala had feared, this harsh truth only made her daughter cry again. She tried to console her, but Nari refused to be consoled.

"You said I can cry if nobody's there!" she sniffed while her tears soaked Narala's gown. "And there is nobody here! Just us!"

_She's right_, Narala realized_. At least while we're alone, there's no need for foolish pretences._

"You're right, Nari," she said while stroking her daughter's head. "You can cry as much as you like."

"Thanks, mommy."

Narala held her daughter close to her while she continued sobbing. She had to savour these last moments together, even though they were sorrowful.

_We might yet be reunited. I can't so pessimistic all the time._

The minutes passed by them, and Nari's tears lessened, then finally dried up. "Look, I'm done crying," she said earnestly and left her mother's embrace. "I'll be a good girl now. All my friends are going too, right? So it won't be too bad."

"That's right. You won't be alone."

"I'm going now," Nari said and slowly walked toward the door while looking back at her mother. "You have lots of work, don't you? You always have." Her words were not meant to hurt, but Narala felt their sting nonetheless. She regretted nothing more than spending so little time with her daughter. Once this crisis was over, she would have to change that.

_I've made that resolution before, and I couldn't keep it. But I can still try._

"Mommy, can you make a promise?" Nari asked as she reached the door.

"That... depends," Narala hesitated and hurried after her, since she was too small to reach the handle on her own.

"Promise me we'll be together again."

_I was afraid it would be something like that._

"Promises you don't know you can keep are the same as lies. And I don't want to lie to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Nari said, and like the child she was, made no attempt to hide her disappointment. Standing on her toes, she reached up and clasped her mother's hands with her own. "I love you, mommy."

"I love you too," Narala replied and opened the coral door. Putting on a defiant smile, Nari waved her goodbye and slipped through the door. Narala entrusted the soldier waiting outside with the task of escorting Nari back to the other evacuees, waved back at her and closed the door.

_She'll be in good hands. I can't ask for more._

"Queen Narala!" One of her commanders barged into the antechamber from the opposite door leading into the throne room. "Please come quickly!"

"What is it?"

"A Hylian emissary requests to see you!"

"How can that be? Is their army already on our doorsteps?" _Grangus said it would take them hours to reach us! Was he miscalculating?_

"It's only the mounted troops, my queen. The footsoldiers are still out of sight."

"Bring him before me," she commanded and followed the man into the throne room. "Make doubly sure he's unarmed."

"Of course, your highness."

_He'll ask me to surrender myself, most likely, and that is the one thing I cannot do. But even if there's just the smallest chance to avoid the fighting, I must hear what he has to say._

It was an insignificant hope, and Narala refused to cling to it as she waited for the emissary to arrive. Not much later he was ushered into the throne room, flanked by three guardsmen on each side who watched him suspiciously. He was a tall, middle-aged Hylian man with short black hair and girded with white plate armour, who bore a confident, yet slightly sorrowful expression. Narala, as well as several others in the room, recognized him, and surprised murmurs erupted among the officers.

"General Thallius, in person. This is unusual."

"These are unusual times, Queen Narala," the General replied. He stopped ten feet in front of Narala and bowed his head. "I am grateful for this opportunity to prevent needless bloodshed."

"That depends on what you have to say," she answered. "Relay the words of your master."

"I am not here on Prince Darion's orders," Thallius said, "although I hope that my actions will meet his approval later."

"You hope?" Narala asked. "So you have no authority to negotiate?"

"Please hear me out, your highness," Thallius pleaded. "For all of our sakes."

Protesting voices arose, but Narala silenced them with a quick hand movement. "Very well, general. I will listen." _There is nothing to lose here, even if there is also nothing to gain._

"Very good. Ahem. First of all, we battled the Gorons on Death Mountain yesterday in order to punish one of their people who had tried to assassinate Prince Darion."

"How dare you!" Narala interrupted him, knowing that he was talking about Kokron. "That Goron was no assassin!"

"So you admit to knowing about that?" Thallius asked in disbelief. "That lends credence to the allegations."

"You are testing my patience, general. I will not have the memory of that Goron slandered." Her tone was icy, and Thallius seemed genuinely surprised.

"Please, Queen Narala! You have a reputation of being dispassionate, so I ask you to listen to my words and judge them afterwards."

_He's right. I should stay composed, as I always do. Still, it's difficult when he accuses Kokron of something like this..._

"At any rate," Thallius continued, "several prisoners were interrogated and claimed that it was you who ordered the attempt on Darion's life."

Not a single Zora in the throne room failed to protest against the general's audacious accusations, and this time, it took Narala several attempts to silence them.

"General Thallius," she said after things had settled down, "you are either a bold liar or a trusting fool."

"I'm not so trusting as you think. Please, I'm getting there." Although he was a veteran of many battles, the general looked rather distraught, and Narala chose to allow this charade to continue further.

"I cannot say whether these accusations are true, and it doesn't matter – they are not why I am here. You see, Shaz suggested to move against Zora's Domain at once, and Lohgrimm supported him. I, too, agreed, under the condition that you were given a chance to explain yourself before we attack your domain and capture you. We moved out first thing in the morning. The main body of the army is-"

"Yes, we know exactly how far away they are," Narala cut him off. "Continue."

"When we were about halfway between this place and Death Mountain, a small band of Sheikah Elites on horseback appeared. They had been to Keeptown during the night and conversed with Prince Darion. They also brought dire news about your attack on the town." Thallius raised his hands to pre-empt protest. "This, too, is not what I'm talking about, although I was shocked. These Sheikah also brought us new orders... and these orders are why I am here. According to them, Prince Darion ordered us to forego capturing you alive, and simply kill you on the spot in revenge for-"

"How dare he?" one of Narala's commanders interrupted.

"This is beyond the pale, even for your foul prince!" yelled a second.

"That murderous swine! We were right to-"

"Silence!" Narala yelled. "I will hear this man out!" _Although I am increasingly unsure as to why._

Thallius nodded gratefully, wet his tongue with his lips and continued.

"These 'orders' are why I am here, because I do not believe that they truly come from the prince. No son of King Artaxis would ever order a cold-blooded murder." The strength and calm of Thallius' voice bespoke the firmness of his conviction, but Narala could only sadly shake her head.

"You're a fool, Thallius. You are projecting your faith in the father, who was a man of peace, on the son, who is not."

"I can only believe what I believe."

"I grow tired of your knightly naivete. Get to the point."

"The point is that I was the only one to doubt the authenticity of those orders. Shaz believes in his men, and vouches for them – fair enough, although I disagree – and Lohgrimm... I've never seen him so furious in my whole life. When he learned about your attack on Keeptown, he vowed to have your head. They overruled my objections and are on their way here, out for your blood. They will have to rest after the day's march, but the attack will come tomorrow at dawn. I volunteered to scout the way ahead with my knights and set up a base camp – and here we are. Here I am."

_Ah, now I see. Perhaps the good general's knightly virtues can yet be used to our advantage._

"Here you are, without authorization by your prince or your peers. What do you want?"

"I want to talk to Prince Darion. To make sure these orders are not his orders. But I cannot abandon my comrades as they march to battle. And even if I did, they would most likely break your defences and kill you before I returned."

"Break us? That's a laugh!"

"Just try!"

"Silence back there!" Narala shouted and wondered whether Thallius would ever come clear with whatever it was he wanted to suggest. "I ask you again, what do you want?"

"Surrender yourself to me and accompany me to Keeptown. That is the only way to save your life and get to the bottom of this at the same time."

_He can't be serious_, Narala thought and silenced her commanders again, half of whom were cursing, the other half laughing.

"Consider it!" Thallius pleaded. "I swear on my honour that I'll deliver you safely! Of course Prince Darion will still have you punished, but... he will not murder you. There'll be a fair trial, at the least!" He looked like he was about to drop to his knees and beg, a strange sight for a man who was said to be a fearless warrior.

_He's just like Kokron_, Narala suddenly realized. _He's a simple man who holds misplaced notions of trust, a man who thinks that honour and good faith alone can make a difference in the world. I should not ridicule him any more than I would have ridiculed Kokron._

"General Thallius," she said with a modicum of sympathy and affection, "I appreciate your offer, even though I have to turn it down, naturally. Not because I don't trust you. It is your master whom I don't trust."

"Prince Darion? But he... he's a good man! Perhaps a bit reckless-"

"I challenge your theory, Thallius," Narala cut him off. "I submit that the orders delivered by those Sheikah are completely authentic. Furthermore, I submit that Darion had a different reason for capturing or killing me, other than our raid on Keeptown or the supposed assassination attempt."

"I don't understand."

"There is something very important that you don't know, general," Narala said and raised her arm, showing Thallius the back of her left hand. "Do you know what this is?"

"Why... it's one of the Triforce marks," the general recognized it. "Darion had bills posted all over town, saying that the people who... oh. _Oh._" He opened his mouth and did not close it for a while, while Narala allowed him some time to let the realization sink in.

"Now you see it, General?" she asked after a few minutes. "The true reason why you were sent here, and why Darion wants to see me dead?

"This... this is just a coincidence! He didn't know! How could he?"

"He learned from King Grangus, whom he had tortured and mutilated to get this information."

"But there wasn't enough time to-"

"The battle ended yesterday afternoon, you said? Riders could have traveled to Keeptown and back to your army during that time, provided they pushed their horses to the limit. They were probably the same men who tortured Grangus, and brought the information to Darion, who then updated his orders."

"Tortured... King Grangus..." Thallius had visible trouble to grasp the concept.

"And on Darion's orders, no less!" Narala continued. "Your prince is a power-hungry lunatic who would lie, torture, murder, and go to war just to get his hands on the Triforce piece that I carry within me... the pieces Kokron and I carried!"

Thallius shook his head in confusion and disbelief, utterly at a loss for words.

_I almost have him convinced! If I can get him to side with us against Darion..._

"I know not what drove Darion to this madness. Perhaps it was his father's death, or something else entirely, but all the facts point at the same conclusion. Follow my reasoning! You know it to be true."

The Hylian Knight Commander remained silent, his head lowered, his brow furrowed, and it was not merely the high humidity of the air that was making him sweat. Narala, too, fell silent. She had made her case, now it was his turn to believe or disbelieve. She waited for five minutes. Then ten. Then Thallius spoke, slowly and deliberately.

"Your story has merit. Far more than I would care to admit."

"So you believe me?"

"You can't prove it," he said firmly. "It's all conjecture."

_Oh for Jabu-Jabu's sake, he can't be serious!_

"Prince Darion might not have known about the Triforce piece that you carry. Those Sheikah might have tortured Grangus for their own reasons – sometimes, war brings out the worst in people. There may be no connection at all."

"You're reaching," Narala said. "You don't want to believe me."

Thallius firmly shook his head. "The prince has a right to face his accuser. So all I can to is repeat my offer to you. I'll bring you to him, and-"

"Silence!" Narala had just about had enough. "I thought you were ready to reconsider your old loyalties and turn against your master, but it seems I was mistaken. This conversation serves no further purpose."

"You have to understand! I can't... I can't go against my oath without knowing the truth!"

"I gave you the truth, Thallius, and it's terrifying you." Narala addressed the guards, who were looking at the general with a mixture of contempt and pity. "Put him in chains." Without hesitation, the soldiers seized the surprised Hylian's arms and bound his hands with shackles made from hardened coral. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"I cannot allow you to return to your men. Though I'm only sapping a tiny portion of their strength by imprisoning you, I must still do it, for the sake of my soldiers." Several of her commanders and the guards cheered when she said that, and this time, Narala did not silence them.

"I am an unarmed messenger!" Thallius protested in vain.

"Please, general. Far worse violations of the rules of warfare have already been committed, on both sides. You will not be mistreated. Take solace in that."

"If I don't return, my men will join with the main army once they arrive and attack you along with them!" Thallius threatened.

"I fully expect them to," Narala replied. "However, the coming battle is no longer your concern. You have a lot to think about in your cell, Thallius. Talk to the guards if you change your mind about what I said." She nodded at the soldiers who had restrained the general. "Take him away, and guard him well."

Without further protests, Thallius allowed himself to be led out of the throne room. He held his head high out of habit, but there was no trace of pride or defiance in his eyes, merely confusion, disbelief, and barely subdued fear.

_I can almost understand how he feels. To doubt the man to whom you've pledged your life... to realize that you might have helped commit crimes that go against the very core of your being... How can there be anything more terrifying for a knight? And yet, undecided as he is right now, he's of no use to us._

"Resume your preparations, gentlemen," Narala exclaimed and clapped her hands to gain the attention of her military commanders, most of whom were lost in their own thoughts about the strange conversation they had just witnessed. "We still have a battle to win."


	28. Hatchetman's End

**Chapter 28: Hatchetman's End**

As a child, Link had been prone to oversleeping, but his father's habit of upending his bed whenever he failed to rise at cock-crow had conditioned him to wake up whenever the first rays of the sun tickled his skin. This had always served him well as long as he had led a peasant's life of working during the day and sleeping at night, but failed when it came to sleeping while the sun was up. Shortly after escaping Keeptown on his stolen horse, the fatigue from a day of fighting followed by a night of riding had forced him to rest, hidden among the trees of one of the many small groves littered all over Hyrule Field. Just a few hours of rest before hurrying on toward Zora's Domain, that had been his original intention. But upon opening his eyes after an uneasy sleep riddled with nightmares best left unremembered, he had found the landscape around him covered in darkness, with the waning moon barely visible behind a shroud of misty clouds.

_I've slept through the whole day!_ he had realized in frustration. _And there I was planning to reach Zora's Domain before Darion's army arrives! Stupid._

Intent to make good for his lost time, Link had steered his horse at great speed to the northeast until he had come upon Zora River. Since he had never been to Zora's Domain before, the only way for him to find it had been to follow the course of the river upstream. He had silently driven his horse along the riverbank for many hours, thinking dark thoughts about what Darion might do if he got his hands on the whole Triforce, assuming it was really as powerful as Arnu had suggested.

_Maybe it won't be so bad. After all, he still cares for his people, or he wouldn't have rushed out to drive back the Zora. But maybe that was just because he was looking for somebody to fight against._

_He's probably one of those people who are perfectly friendly and a pleasure to deal with as long as they feel at ease, but completely overreact once they feel threatened by something. And there's no way the Gorons and Zora will just lay down their weapons and stop the war he began just because he thinks he's done with them. If they continue to fight him even after he gets the whole Triforce, he might wipe them out completely in his fury. And that would be... well... very bad._

Fortunately, the situation was not quite so dire as Link pictured it; after all, Darion had been reduced to the single Triforce piece within his body, while the other one was hopefully hidden somewhere in Gerudo Desert right now. But even though Link had entrusted the Triforce piece stolen from the Gorons to the two Gerudo women he had encountered in the vault – not that he had much of a choice, since they had outnumbered him, and looked like dangerous opponents – he was hesitant to rely too much on two people whom he had never met before. They might even try to sell the Triforce piece back to Darion, for the right price.

_I should be worrying about the third piece, not the second. I have to convince the Zora Queen to escape before the Hylian Army lays siege to her place._

_'The Hylian army', hm. Just when did I start to think of them as the enemy?It hasn't even been a day since I threw away that uniform._

Before escaping from Keeptown, Link had payed a visit to the almost completely deserted barracks and retrieved his favourite green clothes from the closet where the soldiers' meagre personal possessions were stored. Throwing away the blood-stained Hylian uniform along with his dented shield and every other piece of equipment given to him by the army had been the most liberating act in his life, and although he had become a deserter by doing so, Link had not hesitated for a second. No matter what the future might bring and whether the Zora would even listen to him, he was done with serving any king or prince. For a second, he felt guilty for abandoning his comrades, especially the ones entrusted to his care by a whim of fate; but if he allowed himself to be shackled to them with chains of unwanted responsibility, he would never attain freedom.

_Is this what it means to be free? Cutting off all attachments so there's no one left to influence your decisions? So you can make your own choices without regard for what others think of you? If that's the case, being free must also mean being lonely._

_Maybe I should stop waxing philosophy and focus on what's in front of me. How long is this stupid river anyway?_

After another uneventful hour or two of following the stream, Link finally noted a change in the countryside. He was now riding slightly uphill, and the river, although it should have become narrower the closer he came to its source, grew wider and more rapid, and the number of stones and boulders scattered throughout the riverbed increased. The grass below the horse's hooves grew scarce, and the shadows of a vast rock formation loomed in the distance. The most subtle change was a faint noise like rushing water coming from the direction he was travelling into, and it grew more and more audible as time went by, eventually drowning out the sound of the running water entirely.

It was only when his horse climbed a steep hill that had been blocking his view that Link saw the source of that sound: A huge waterfall which poured through a wide opening in the rock formation into the river below among a mist of steam and foam. There were several narrow paths leading up to the waterfall from the ground level, none of them wide enough to support more than three men walking next to each other. The unending torrent of water coloured silver by the light of the moon would have been quite a majestic sight, if Link had not been cold, miserable and generally anxious.

_At least this place can't be mistaken. It's definitely the entrance to Zora's Domain. But what are these lights on the hill over there? They look like... campfires?_

_Am I already too late?_

Link was too far away to discern anything around the fires, and approaching them would have been very dangerous for him, assuming they were the campfires of the Hylian army arrived from Death Mountain. After all, he was a deserter now, and if scouts saw him, he could get into real trouble real quick.

"You there!" a deep voice sounded from somewhere behind him. "Get off your horse and put your hands in the air! Now!"

_I've been discovered already? Damn, what now?_

Link tried to turn his horse around and flee into the direction where he had come from, but before his mount had completed its half-turn, he heard the sound of something heavy whirring through the air, followed by the impact of something long and thin close behind him. To its credit, the horse did not balk or panic, and completed its turn, then remained still, awaiting its rider's instructions. In front of Link, a long spear was sticking out of the soil, but it was not one of the spears made of wood and iron that Link had handled himself during his brief stay in the army, but crafted from a single piece of hardened coral, like all Zora weapons.

"Get off your horse," the voice repeated, and now Link realized that it was coming from the river. "That was a warning throw. The next one will hit you."

_And there I was afraid of running into a Hylian patrol. Of course the Zora are monitoring the army camping before their doorsteps!_

_Oh well, it's not like I could have simply walked into Zora's Domain. Hopefully, they'll hear me out._

Link quickly slid out of the saddle and raised his empty hands as ordered while scanning the riverbank with his eyes. "Do not move!" the voice warned him, and three Zora soldiers appeared at the river's edge and moved toward him, holding their spears over their shoulders, ready to throw them at any moment. Link had never seen a Zora before, but they pretty much fit the descriptions he had heard as a child: They were tall, slender and blue-skinned, had large fins coming out of their arms and a long tail fin growing from the back of their heads. Their eyes did not look much different from a Hylian's, at least not in the dark, and they inspected him with cautious, probing looks.

"You're with the Hylian army," the one marching in front said. "One of their scouts."

"No, I'm not!" Link said and pointed down his green tunic with one hand. "Does this look like a uniform to you?"

"Some sort of camouflage, no doubt."

"He wasn't coming from their camp," another Zora soldier said while he approached Link and shifte his spear from a throwing to a thrusting position. "Probably a messenger from their capital."

"I'm not with the army!" Link asserted again. _At least not anymore_, but there was no reason to say that part aloud. "I have to talk to your queen!" The only response he got was laughter, while the third soldier searched him for weapons. "He's unarmed," he said after finishing his inspection.

"My weapons are in there," Link volunteered and pointed at the backpack fastened behind his horse's saddle. He hoped that his honesty would lend some credence to the claim that he was coming in peace. "Please, I have to see your queen!" Again, his plea was answered with laughter, but one of the soldiers suddenly stopped laughing and eyed Link with great intensity.

"Are you an official courier? Are you authorized by your prince to negotiate?"

Link was tempted greatly to answer yes to that question, but he decided against it, because once the queen realized that he had approached her under false pretences, she certainly would not listen to a word he had to say.

_What do I want to tell her, anyway? That they'll be attacked? I'm sure they figured that one out on their own, that with the army already on their doorsteps. Do I actually have anything to offer to her? If only I had reached the vault sooner, I could have used the Triforce piece as a bargaining chip!_

_Oh who am I kidding, I'm not here because I can help her, but because I need her help._

"Well, what is it? Spit it out!" the Zora demanded.

_The Triforce! I still don't get what these 'three pieces' are all about, or how their queen got her hands on one of them, but she may not even know about its power!_

"I'm an enemy of Prince Darion," Link declared, although the prince himself was not even aware of that, but that mattered little. "I know why he started this war, and why he wants to kill your queen. He's more dangerous than you know, and I have to warn her about it!"

"We don't care about the 'why', and we don't need your useless warnings," the Zora soldier closest to him dismissed his words, but the one who seemed to be in charge was more cooperative.

"So you're saying you're a deserter? A traitor?"

"Uh... yes, that's basically it." _I hope he doesn't tell me now how much he loathes traitors._

"What was your position?"

"I was an instructor in the army," Link said. _That's not a lie. _"And I've talked to the prince on several occasions." _That's also true. Hm, I'm making myself sound kind of important._

"I'm not sure I can believe you," the Zora leader replied. "Aren't you pretty young for a Hylian?"

"Uh... I'm older than I look, really. It's just the hat. Do you think it looks childish?"_ I stopped being self-conscious about that hat years ago. It's all coming back now, damn it!_

"I hope for your sake you're not making fun of me," the Zora soldier said. "But I'll take you on your word, on the off chance that you actually have some valuable information. Better safe than sorry, I always say."

_Phew. Thanks, goddesses. Or whoever._

"But be warned! If it turns out you wasted our queen's time, we'll play a little game called 'waterfall jumping'. I'm sure you'll love it to death."

Link gulped. "I catch your drift." _I'd better sound convincing, then._

"Good." The Zora nodded at his fellow soldiers. "Let's take him to the queen and see if she'll hear him out. You, carry his pack. There may be something in there to verify his story – or prove it wrong."

_Not much chance of that. It's just my sword, a dirty blanket and some crumbs of dried bread in there._

One of the soldiers went ahead of Link, the others behind him, pointing their spears at his back just in case he tried something funny, and led him along the widest of the paths leading up to the waterfall. They followed it for ten minutes, steadily gaining height, and just when Link thought they would have to pass through the waterfall, the path took a sharp turn and led to a tunnel entrance that looked similar to the ones he had seen in Goron City.

They followed the tunnel for a while, passing through a huge cavern with a subterranean lake and a smaller waterfall of its own, and entered another tunnel going uphill. Link tried not to look around too overtly, lest his escort started thinking he might be a spy, but he noted that small groups of soldiers were busy at work camouflaging deep gaps in the floor and preparing complicated mechanisms involving large nets that looked more suitable for catching people than fish.

_They're setting traps and preparing their defences, of course. They seem to know what they're doing. Good._

They came to a junction between two tunnels and had to wait for a large procession of unarmed Zora of both genders and all ages to walk past them (Link curiously noted that, like the Gorons, most of them were not wearing any clothes, nor did anyone seem bothered by that).

_They're evacuating their civilians? Isn't that a sign of lacking confidence? Or just a precaution?_

The tunnel ended in a circular green door which led into a small room that featured several large, opened seashells, and only when the soldiers motioned Link to sit down did he realize that they were the Zora equivalent of chairs.

"You will wait here," their leader said. "I'll report your request to the queen." He left the room through a second door opposite to the first, while his two comrades remained in order to guard Link. He soon realized why he had been asked to sit, because the soldier did not return for at least thirty minutes, and tried to hide his impatience, since he was not in a situation to make demands on his 'hosts'. For what it was worth, the strange seating arrangement was rather comfortable. After what to Link felt at least like an hour had passed, the door was opened again, and the leader of the patrol returned.

"You're in luck," he said, "Her highness will see you now."

"Th-thank you," Link stuttered and jumped to his feet. He followed the soldier through the door and into what looked like the throne room. However, the large, seashell-adorned chair in the centre was empty, and Link was led through a wide tunnel that opened behind it. The other two soldiers were still following him, and one of them was still carrying his pack.

"Her highness waits beyond the end of this tunnel", the leader told him. "You will maintain a distance of ten feet. You will address her as 'your highness' or 'Queen Narala'. 'My queen' is also acceptable, but would sound odd coming from a Hylian."

_She sounds like a sticker for formalities. Then again, Darion is all about being approachable, so that's no reliable way to judge a ruler's character._

They reached the tunnel's exit and entered another cave housing a large pond, except that it wasn't a cave: Morning's first light was reflected on the water's surface and Link realized that they were outside, although the steep rock faces surrounding the pond all but cut off this place from the rest of the world. The largest fish Link had ever seen, and not by a small margin, was gently bobbing up and down near the shore, and Link stared at him open-mouthed.

"It is not permitted to gape at Lord Jabu-Jabu," one of the soldiers behind Link said and prodded him in the back. "Count yourself lucky: You are one of the few non-Zora to ever lay eyes on him."

"Not permitted... right," Link said and set his sights back in front of him. Surrounded by a group of eight or nine especially tall Zora soldiers armed not only with long spears but also with shields, there stood a lone Zora woman wearing a red gown and a golden diadem. She looked at Link with a cold, but expectant expression which he chose to interpret as 'I am a busy woman, so explain yourself'. He stopped ten feet before her (or perhaps eleven or twelve, since he would rather err on the side of caution) and bowed as low as he could without hurting his back.

"I am Queen Narala of the Zora," the woman said with immaculate inflexion. "Who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"My name is Link, your highness, and I'm here to warn you about Prince Darion and tell you about the Triforce," Link said in the hope that this would rouse the queen's interest.

"That is intriguing," Narala said and took a step toward him. "It was my understanding that only a handful of Hylians knew about the true nature of the Triforce." She hesitated. "On the other hand, you may be one of Darion's agents, trying to find out how much _I_ know about it. So I suggest you volunteer some information that is new to me."

_Ugh, why so suspicious? I hope I know something she doesn't._

"Well, in short, the Triforce is a magical object made by the goddesses, and it contains their power. It belonged to Darion's father, and he should have inherited it." That was what Arnu had told him and Thallius back then.

"Continue," Narala said simply.

"Somehow, it was split into three parts, and it's useless this way. Darion has one, you have the second, and a Goron named... uh... Koron? Gorgon? He had the third."

"You have met Kokron?" Narala asked, suddenly very interested. "As friend, or foe?"

_Uh oh, this is delicate. But if I lie, and she finds out... best not tell her everything._

"I saw him killed by one of Darion's men," Link said non-committally. "Which is part of why I deserted him. Darion, I mean."

"You claim to be appalled by his methods, then?"

"Yes, exactly, Queen Narala."

"If only more of your kind shared that attitude," Narala sighed. "But you still haven't told me anything I don't know."

_Ah, but there's something she simply cannot now! I better say it now, before she becomes impatient._

"The Triforce piece that was taken from this Kokron's body... it was brought to Keeptown, to Darion."

"I did not technically know that, but it was easy enough to deduce. He would want to have it as soon as possible."

"Yes, but here's the good news," Link said and could not help to grin. "It was stolen from him during the Zora attack... uh, your people's attack, that is."

"Stolen? By whom?"

"Two Gerudo thieves, who immediately made for the desert. Darion probably learned about it by now, but they had a decent head start."

Queen Narala folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head slightly, seemingly intrigued by Link's words.

"Assuming what you say is true, that is good news indeed. It means that even if the unthinkable happens and we fall, Darion will not yet be able to reunite the Triforce.

"The Gerudo of all people... we have little in terms of relations with them, since the Hylians keep them cut off from the rest of Hyrule. But it is said that King Garanth is an honourable man. Perhaps we can strike an alliance with him..." She looked intently at Link. "Assuming you're speaking the truth... Tell me, Link: What is your relation with Prince Darion?"

"We... fought together, once." _Against each other would be more precise, but it's still true._ "And he kind of befriended me. A little bit."

"A little bit?" Narala asked. "Are you sure you're not downplaying your relation for our benefit?"

"Absolutely not!" _If anything, I'm embellishing it._

"What do you think of Darion's state of mind?"

"I don't think he's quite sane. He acts strangely, recklessly. He also has no qualms and would kill anybody to get the Triforce, including you. I wouldn't trust him with anything in his state, much less the power of the gods."

"Yes," Narala nodded. "My... sources," she continued with a grim expression, "had similar things to say about him."

"So you believe me?" Link asked, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.

"I think what you say is believable," the Zora Queen corrected him. "I currently have no means to corroborate your claims; however, they are also not immediately relevant to the current situation. You wouldn't know anything about the army's attack plans?"

Link shook his head. "No, sorry. I just came here from Keeptown. I wasn't with the army... but on Death Mountain, they used the main force to divert the Gorons while a band of Sheikah sneaked into the city through a different entrance and took the Triforce. You have lots of tunnels here. They may try the same thing."

Narala shook her head. "No, that won't work here. The only passages into Zora's Domain other than those near the waterfall are all underwater, and go on for miles. Not even Hyrule's vaunted Sheikah Elites can enter through there. And besides, the exits are all under our control."

"I'm sorry. That's all I can tell you."

"It's all right. It can't be helped." Narala whispered something into the ear of a guardsman, and the Zora hurried past Link to the tunnel entrance. "We should talk more, Link, especially about Darion, but now is not the time. You will stay here during the battle as our honoured guest." She sounded as though she was done with him and already thinking about other things in her head. "I trust that is all right with you?"

"Yes, it is. I don't really have a place to go to, anyway. I mean, I could go back to my village, but as long as-"

"Splendid," Narala interrupted him. "I will have someone show you safe quarters... no, actually, at this particular point in time, the safest place in Zora's Domain is right here. Just don't get in anybody's way. And don't try to feed Jabu-Jabu. It wouldn't end well."

"Actually," Link called after her, "I'd like to help somehow, if I can." The thought of just standing here looking at an oversized fish while Darion's army assaulted this place did not sit well with him. Narala turned around, looked somewhat annoyed for a second, then shook her head.

"Do you think you can fight against your own people?"

_Actually, that's a rather good question. Could I?_

"Don't answer that," the Zora Queen raised her left hand, "because it doesn't matter. Don't take this personal, but you could still be a Hylian spy trying to assess our defences and then escape. You will have to wait here."

_I am insulted. But I can't say that out loud, can I?_

"Actually," Narala turned around for a second time, "there might be something you can do. I could have you talk to that fool of a man and try to convince him that-"

"Attack!" A Zora guard suddenly appeared at the tunnel's exit and shouted at the top of his lungs (or should that be gills, Link wondered). "The Hylians are attacking!"

"Forget about that," Narala told Link and moved to intercept the bearer of bad tidings, followed her bodyguards, some of whom eyed the green-garbed Hylian suspiciously as they passed him.

"The first order of business is not to panic", Narala told the nervous soldier. "Take a deep breath and calm down. We are prepared for this."

"Yes, my queen," the Zora said after getting a hold of himself. "I'm sorry."

"Next, I want to be kept in constant contact with the forward command post. Any news, good or bad, reaches me as soon as it becomes available."

"Yes, my queen. They have several runners on standby for that."

"Good. Now I want you to run and find out whether the evacuation has been completed. And if it hasn't, tell them to hurry up."

The soldier saluted hastily and dashed back into the tunnel where he had come from, while Narala spoke to the soldiers who had escorted Link, presumably sending them to their posts, since they, too, departed the pond area through the tunnel. Soon, another messenger arrived, this one more collected and less loud than the first, and spoke to Narala.

_I better not disturb her now_, Link thought and retreated close to the rocks where his pack had been abandoned. Not that he would try to pick up his sword in the presence of Narala; any such attempt would certainly earn him swift punishment at the hands of the queen's watchful bodyguards. But it was still comforting to know that his sword was close by, just in case, so Link sat down next to his pack and folded his hands over his knees.

_Nothing to do now but wait._

Minutes passed. Messengers came and went. Link waited.

_That thing is watching me! Or am I going crazy?_

The oversized fish continued to stare at Link. It was unsettling.

_Look away please. I'm not interesting. I'm also not edible._

The fish's eyes wandered. Perhaps it had not been watching Link at all. Who knew?

_Gods, this is so frustrating._

"Breakthrough! Sheikah!"

_What?_

Another extremely agitated Zora soldier had entered the pond area and was shouting at Narala, who had seized his shoulders and shook him in an attempt to calm him down. Alarmed by the announcement, Link leapt to his feet and moved toward the soldier and the queen, hoping that he had heard wrong. Two of Narala's bodyguards stepped out and crossed their spears in front of him when he came to close to the queen, but allowed him to listen from where he was standing. The soldier – he looked very young, probably not older than Link – had finally calmed down enough to speak in coherent sentences

"Sheikah, your highness! They were at least twenty of them! We lured them into one of the flooding traps, but about half of them made it through before the trap sprung. My comrades... they stayed behind to buy me time so I could warn you! They could be here any minute!"

"They could also take a wrong turn and fall into another trap," Narala said calmly. In spite of the danger she was in, the Zora Queen remained unfazed, at least on the surface.

_So half of them drowned? Good riddance. I hope Ashra was among them._

"My queen!" One of Narala's bodyguards, perhaps their leader, stepped forth. "Please permit two of us to stand watch at the entrance of the connecting tunnel, so we can warn you if the intruders come here."

"No," Narala shook her head once. "You would just give our position away by standing there. The best thing to do is wait and hope they don't find this place-"

"There they are!" the soldier shouted. "They're coming!"

All heads turned to the tunnel at the same time, Link's included. At the opposite end of the tunnel, a group of perhaps ten black-clad men had appeared and was now running along the passageway toward the pond area.

_They're at the forefront again, these sick war lovers. _

"My queen, into the water, quickly!" the guard leader shouted. Narala hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Leave none of them alive," she instructed and gracefully jumped into the pond, diving away somewhere beneath the giant fish.

"Defensive phalanx!" the guard leader shouted, and the ten Zora warriors formed two lines of five at the tunnel entrance, pointing their long spears toward the attackers who had already passed half of the tunnel's length. They were now close enough that Link could see their faces, or rather, the black masks they wore, and count their numbers: They were ten, just like the defenders. An even battle, assuming a Zora royal guard matched a Sheikah Elite – for which there was no guarantee.

_There's no way I'm standing on the sidelines here!_

"I can help," he shouted and dashed back to where his pack was still lying. He rummaged through it, retrieved and unwrapped his trusty sword and returned to the defenders.

"Stay out of our way," the closest Zora barked at him without taking his eyes off the advancing Sheikah. "Those idiots are going to impale themselves if they continue at this speed. They don't even have their weapons drawn!"

"But I-"

"Whose side are you really on?" another shouted. "Did you lead them here?"

"No, wait! I didn't-"

One of the Zora defenders in the second row broke formation and thrust his spear after Link, who was almost impaled by the completely unexpected attack. He leapt back, lost his balance and fell backwards into the ankle-deep water near the shore.

"And stay down!" the Zora shouted and resumed his position in the defensive phalanx.

_These idiots!_

Before Link managed to get up, or decided whether it was even a good idea to get up, the Sheikah were upon the defenders. But of course they did not impale themselves on the Zoras' spears, but rather came to a frigheningly abrupt halt just outside of thrusting range. Even as they stopped, the Sheikah produced short throwing knifes from their belts and took aim.

"Second row, throw!" the guard commander shouted as he realized the threat, and five spears flew through the air toward the attackers. Two of them were direct hits into the chest, one of them a glancing hit, and the other two missed. But the volley of knives had already been launched, with the Sheikah in the second row skillfully throwing them past their comrades in the first row. Five Zora went down, struck in the throat or face – the entire first row, leaving the second row who had just thrown their spears defenceless.

_Why didn't they throw their spears earlier? Or make a charge of their own? Or..._

Still unwilling to move, Link seethed with anger as he watched the ensuing melee from the water while thinking about the various things he would have done better if he had been in charge of the defenders. The surviving Zora, disciplined enough not to freeze in shock because of their comrades' deaths, stepped back and drew their secondary weapons: spears with a much shorter shaft and more suitable for close-combat situations. Carelessly trampling over the bodies of the fallen Zora, the Sheikah threw themselves at their enemies with little regard for their own lives. Their uncanny silence contrasted their savagery, and the only times Link could hear muffled screams from beneath the masks was when one of them was injured or killed, and sometimes, not even then.

_I could have helped them. I could have made a difference. Now it's too late for them._

The remaining Zora made their last stand at the edge of the shore, perhaps, Link morbidly thought, because they wished to die in the water. They actually managed to take several more Sheikah down with them, using their short spears for rapid thrusts, but in the end, they were killed to the last man, and both Zora and Sheikah blood mixed with the water of the sacred pond. Only when the last of them fell did Link find the will go get up, dripping with water, and looked at the victors with a vacuous stare.

_So what now? Is Narala still in there? What are they going to do? What am I going to do?_

Several of the triumphant Sheikah took notice of him, but made no hostile moves toward him.

"A Hylian, here?" one of them asked, not as much suspicious as bewildered.

"I think I saw them try and kill him," a second stated.

"Are you a prisoner?"

"Speak up, man!"

"Stop this nonsense!" the muffled voice of the only Sheikah not looking at him reached Link's ears. "Let the kid be. We're not done here. The queen is somewhere in the water."

"What if there's an underwater tunnel leading out of here?" one of the others asked.

"If there is, this operation was a failure," the first one admitted. "But I don't think so. That Zora shouted 'into the water', not 'flee through the tunnel' or something like that."

"Makes sense."

_I have to stop them. But they are five. Five Sheikah Elites. It is impossible._

"Don't worry, if she's still there, she'll leave this pool real quickly." The leader pulled out a small, padded bottle from somewhere below his leather armour suit and opened it. "I always wanted to try chemical warfare," he said and threw the bottle into the pond. "This stuff is so concentrated, it'll burn away the skin of every living thing it comes into contact with in less than twenty seconds." He cocked his masked head and looked at the giant fish that had watched the entire fight with mild disinterest. "Well, maybe it won't work on that thing, because its skin is too thick But that's fine, since we have much smaller fish to fry."

_I can't tell his voice from the others, but who else could be so sadistic? And I hoped he drowned in that trap, the bastard._

Followed by the bottle's impact, a slight greenish tinge formed at the point where it had vanished in the water and spread evenly with rapid speed. When it reached the giant fish, it made noises indicating slight discomfort, and dead skins particles floated up from below the surface, but as the Sheikah who must be Ashra had predicted, it suffered no serious damage and continued to stare at the intruders.

After less than a minute, the entire pond had taken on the same green hue, and a slender, dark shape appeared just below the surface, close to the centre of the pond.

"Ah, she's coming up. About time, too."

With a long-drawn, agonized scream, the Zora Queen finally emerged from the infested waters and swam toward the shore. As she came closer, Link could see that every visible square inch of her skin was horribly blistered, and she continued to scream and scream as she dragged herself to shore less than ten feet away from her tormentors. She tore off the drenched and tattered remains of her dress and dragged her fingers up and down her body, scratching and opening the blisters until she was bleeding from a dozen wounds.

"Thanks for making it out in time, Queen Narala," Ashra said – it was him, no doubt remained – and walked over to the suffering woman, followed by his comrades who circled around her and watched her like an interesting specimen. "If you hadn't, we would have been forced to fish for your skinless, bloated body. Don't worry, it's not fatal. It's just the worst pain you've ever experienced in your life." He raised his voice and shouted at her. "But you know, it's still nothing more than a little itch compared to the people whom you had burnt to death!"

_You hypocrite, don't even pretend that this is about punishment or revenge for the fire! _Link thought. _This is about your sick pleasure, and nothing else!_

_Why am I not saying this out loud? Why am I just standing here, watching?_

_Bacause no words can stop this man. Only actions can. And there are five of them, and one of me._

_I'm a pathetic coward._

"You... won't..." Narala whispered. She no longer had the energy to scream.

"What? What was that?" Ashra asked. "You must speak more clearly!" He laughed, and most of his comrades joined him.

"You won't... get it. You'll never... get it!" In spite of her injuries and her pain, the Zora Queen rose to her knees, then to her feet, then tried to run away toward the tunnel. But Ashra easily seized her shoulder and stopped her from moving.

"No, no, we can't have that," he jeered through his mask and casually kicked away one of Narala's legs. "I'm afraid I must insist that you stay down!" he shouted as Narala lost her balance and landed on the ground, face upwards. Then he hesitated and scratched his head in thought. "Wait, where did I hear that before? Ah, yes!" He turned around and faced Link. "It was when that fishman attacked you, kid." He laughed. "So, why don't you use this opportunity to tell us who you are and what you're doing here?" He casually strolled toward Link, leaving Narala to be watched by the other Sheikah. Then he stopped three feet in front of him, bent forward and opened his mouth.

"Whoa, Link, is that really you? That's just... wow. I didn't even recognize you in this silly get-up." He removed his mask and, as expected, the pale, red-eyed face of Ashra appeared. "Man, what can I say? You made it to the goal before me. Again." He clapped. "And wearing a skirt, too. That's a skirt, isn't it?"

Link did not answer. His eyes gazed past Ashra on the body of the Zora Queen who tried to crawl toward the tunnel entrance, until one of the Sheikah stepped on her hands. Ashra noticed what Link was looking at and sighed.

"Oh boy, don't tell me I traumatized you. Again. Maybe you're just not cut out for war, hm?"

_He doesn't even get it. He doesn't understand how somebody can not enjoy this. He's just sick in the head._

"Fine, whatever, stand there like a pillar of salt. We can exchange niceties later. I have some important things to do."

Ashra turned around and walked back to Narala, who was still breathing heavily, but somehow seemed to have recovered part of her strength: Her eyes were no longer glassy, but focused on the man standing above her.

"My dear queen, we have to talk," Ashra said, no longer cheerful like before, but deadly serious. "I just lost half of my men to one of your blasted traps, and then half of the remaining half to your puny bodyguards! Do you know what that makes me?"

"A terrible leader?" Narala rasped.

"Wrong!" Ashra yelled. "It makes me angry!" He kicked her in the groin, and she cried out in pain. "Very, very angry! So before I get down to business and extract the royal treasure from you, I'll make you rue the day you were born."

"Ashra! Stop it!" Link finally heard himself shout so very late, perhaps too late. He drew his sword from its scabbard and walked toward the five Sheikah and their defenceless victim.

_I won't allow it again. I won't just stand by and watch him murder somebody again. If I did, I would be even worse scum than he is._

_Even if they kill me, it's better than living as a filthy coward._

"Eh, Link?" Ashra asked curiously, completely unconcerned by the young man with the sword walking toward him. "So you can still move. That's great. But what are you..." To Link's great surprise, he laughed.

_Let him laugh. Just a few more feet._

"So you want to kill her yourself, you greedy bastard. Wasn't one Triforce piece enough? Come on now, be a good sport and leave her to me. Be honest, you didn't even contribute anything!"

_You're delusional, Ashra. Good for me._

To Link's dismay, Ashra's comrades were not quite so delusional as their leader; at the very least, they suspected something. One of them stepped forth and barred his way, one hand on the hilt of his own sheathed sword, the other extended toward Link

"Whatever it is you want to do," he said, "don't even try."

"Yes, you're right," Link sighed, lowered his sword and turned his back to the Sheikah. "I don't know what I was thinking. After all, things must be done in their proper order – from first to last!" As he spoke these words, Link gripped his sword with both hands and with one fluid movement turned around again, raised it over his head and brought it down on the Sheikah from above with all his strength, splitting his skull.

_One._

Pulling at his sword with both hands, Link instantly dislodged it from the dead man's head, lunged past him toward the second Sheikah and gored him through the chest.

_Two._

"Wh-what the hell?" Link heard Ashra shout and made a half-turn to face his remaining opponents while pulling his sword from the second Sheikah's chest. Ashra was staring at him with a face so dumb Link almost laughed, until one of his comrades jumped in front of him and blocked the view. The other had drawn two long daggers and tried to circle around Link to attack him from the side.

_There goes the surprise effect. It was nice while it lasted._

Before Link could think of a way to dispatch him that would not leave him open to an attack from Ashra and the other one, the dagger-wielding Sheikah suddenly staggered back, and Link saw that Narala had seized his leg and was trying to drag him down. She was much too weak for that of course, especially in her current condition, but it was enough to make the Sheikah lose his balance, and gave Link an opening which he gratefully used to strike at him. He just barely hit him, but enough to slash his throat open and send him to the ground screaming and spraying blood.

_Three._

Link threw his head around and saw that instead of attacking him, the fourth Sheikah was still standing in front of Ashra, apparently dead set on protecting his still dumbfounded commander. He calmly pointed his slim sword in Link's direction, assuming a stance suitable for parrying incoming attacks from any angle. Link made several probing half-thrusts, but the Sheikah's swordmanship was excellent, and he found no opening.

"Get away from me, you idiot!" Ashra suddenly yelled and pushed his last remaining comrade away from him while reaching for his sword. "I'll kill that runt myself!" The Sheikah grunted in protest, stumbled forward, and was impaled on Link's sword during one of his probing thrusts.

_Uh... Four._

Surprised by this unexpectedly easy kill, Link pressed his left foot against the man's chest and pulled out the sword that had entered his body up to the hilt. The Sheikah slumped to the ground with a dull thud, leaving Link to focus on his final enemy. Ashra was still standing in the same spot and stared at the man whom he had just inadvertently killed; apparently he could still feel regret, at least where his comrades were concerned. "You bastard!" he screamed and drew his own sword; late, but timely enough to parry Link's first blow. "You'll pay for that!"

"Oh, now that you've lost something, you, too suddenly can feel pain? Where's your carefree attitude?" Link's anger had been spent on the four Sheikah who lay dead or dying on the ground around him. Now all he had to do was dismantle the hypocritical murderer in front of him with cold precision of both words and thrusts. He let his right hand slide off his sword's hilt and continued to attack only with his left, which allowed him to strike more quickly and accurately than before.

_First, to lure him away from here. If we fight in this spot, it will endanger Narala, and I could trip over one of those bodies._

Link slowly retreated in a half-circle around the giant fish in the middle of the pond's shoreline, drawing Ashra along with him with continued attacks. The Sheikah warrior held his sword with both hands and expertly defended against Link's blows, but he was starting to lag behind: He always parried just in time to prevent being hit, but not as fast as he could have, and with each of Link's strikes, the small differences slowly added up. His powerful and well-timed counterattacks became increasingly rare, and Link did not even need to parry or block them, did not even notice the absence of the shield he had become so used to: Ashra's heartfelt anger at his own losses, perhaps the only anger someone like him could ever feel, made him easily readable, and Link evaded every one of his strikes until they completely dried up and Ashra was reduced entirely to defending himself. Then, the long, slow half-circle came to an end when Link reached the other side of the shoreline and stopped moving lest he stepped into the toxic water of the pond.

"Ha!" Ashra cried out when he noticed Link's new and somewhat perilous position. "You have no more ground to lose! Why don't you just end it and jump in?" But in spite of his rhetoric, he was still the one on the defence, and Link decided to chip away at him some more.

"You've lost every single member of your unit today, didn't you?" he asked Ashra. "One by one, war has claimed them all. It is only fitting that now it shall claim you, too."

"Ha, look who's trying to sound all deep! What's it to you, anyway? Do you think I'll cry over them?"

"You would, Ashra," Link said and feigned a rather ill-aimed thrust which exposed his right side. "If only you could, you would be bawling like an infant right about now."

"Stop talking nonsense," his opponent barked and lunged forward, eager to take the offensive once again, but Link dodged sideways and quickly darted behind him. Ashra turned around in time to avoid being stabbed in the back, but now positions were reversed, and he was the one close to the toxic water.

"And now you're afraid," Link continued while trying to destroy Ashra's balance. "As long as your precious elite unit existed, you could convince yourself you were invincible. But not anymore."

"You don't know me at all," Ashra shouted. By now, he was cutting it extremely close with the parrying, and soon enough, Link knew he would overtake what was left of his rhythm. "No matter how wise and superior you try to sound, you have no clue about what makes me tick. You'll never understand someone like me."

"Shut up!" Link shouted. There was nothing left to do except to keep up the pace. "You're not special. You're not 'elite'. You're nothing but a common thug, who only now realizes how powerless he is without his fellow thugs." He was now attacking faster than Ashra could parry, and the Sheikah was pulling out all the stops and technical tricks to keep his own sword between Link's blade and his flesh. They would not avail him for much longer.

"There's nothing difficult or complicated about you. Like all thugs, you will eventually take on somebody you can't handle. And then, when you have nothing and no one to fall back on, you will die." Link thrust his sword at Ashra's waist, and although the Sheikah parried it at the last moment, his momentum made it impossible to catch up with Link's blade. He moved it up to his chest and his neck and buried it in the soft flesh of his opponent's throat.

Ashra screamed, dropped his sword and tried to cover the hole in his throat with his hands. His lips moved to say something, but the only sound his throat produced was an agonized gurgling.

"You should be really happy now," Link casually said, "because I actually did go for the throat this time. I guess I have what it takes, after all." Unable to answer or even acknowledge Link's words, Ashra stumbled backwards and fell into the toxic soup of his own making. However, by the time the acid water began attacking his skin, he was already dead, which spared Link the trouble of having to put him out of his misery.

"And that's that," he said, more for his own benefit than anybody else's, and turned around to see how Narala was doing. To his surprise, the Zora Queen was already walking around on her own power again and met him halfway, in front of Jabu-Jabu, who had probably just experienced the most eventful day in his entire life. Link was absolutely positive that the queen was still in pain, but if he was right, she gave no indication of that.

"Link. You're all right."

"Yes, your highness. Those Sheikah will vex you no more." Saying that gave Link great satisfaction. Not pleasure at their deaths, but satisfaction that something resembling justice had been meted out. "But should you be walking?"

"I'll walk as long as I still have my legs attached, thank you very much," she replied. Then, perhaps upon review of her own words, she covered her mouth with her hand and said: "I apologize. I did not mean to be snarky. You did save my life." Her smile lasted for approximately half a second before it faded. "However, we have no time to rejoice for our survival, nor grieve for the one who couldn't be saved," she said earnestly. "The battle seems to be lost."

"How would you know? I mean, you had all these traps, and-"

"My commanders were supposed to keep me posted on the battle progress. The fact that no new messengers arrived after the Sheikah attacked means the Hylians have overwhelmed the defenders, bypassed the traps and either captured or cut off the command post. Even if my soldiers are still fighting, without guidance and coordination, they have little chance to succed." Her voice was cold and analytical, even though what she said might spell doom for her and her people. "The battle is lost," she concluded.

Link was still out of breath and a bit dizzy from the duel he had just fought, and was unsure how to react to Narala's conclusion. He chose to tread carefully and asked: "Uh... that sounds reasonable. But are you sure you aren't jumping to conclusions?"

"Do you have a better explanation?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then until you or I find one, the one we have must suffice."

_Well, if you put it like that..._

"So what do we do?"

"There's only one choice left to us – the one I most dislike, of course." Narala bit down on her lower lips, which was probably as close to showing emotional distress as she would ever come, and sighed deeply. "We have to escape from this place. Which means I have to abandon my home and my people." She started walking toward the tunnel leading to the throne room, and waved for Link to follow him. "In fact, we have very little time, so hurry up."

_I'd love to sit down and rest for a while, but I guess that's just not to be._

"We have to hurry," Narala repeated and picked up speed in spite of her wounds. "There's no telling how far the attackers have already progressed. We could be running into – argh!"

The Zora Queen's legs failed her and she fell over, and although Link tried, he was too far away to catch her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said between her teeth and tried to get up, but collapsed again before she got very far.

"I'm fine," she assured Link. "It's nothing."

"Yeah. Right," he replied. "The pain is just so bad you can't walk."

"I only need a short break, and-"

"I can carry you," he offered. "You look like you're pretty light."

Narala laughed. "Oh the horror. That would be a supreme breach of protocol."

Link shrugged. "I won't tell anyone as long as you don't."

"In that case, we should – oh, no. No, not now!"

Prompted by Narala's desperate mumblings, Link turned around and looked down the tunnel, and saw dozens of armoured soldiers marching toward them, filling the whole width of the passageway.

"No," he weakly repeated Narala's words. "This has to be a bad joke."

"Stay right where you are," a deep, familiar voice echoed through the low-ceilinged tunnel. "Surrender and you won't be harmed."

"Thallius!" Link exclaimed. _This is a good thing, right? He's a reasonable person, right?_

"That means they already captured the lower levels, where the holding cells are," Narala said in a flat tone. "To be caught by that man now... oh, the irony." Link did not understand her meaning, but he had no time to ask: The soldiers advanced quickly, and now Link could see that all of them were wearing plate armour; that and the fact that Thallius was leading them identified them as the Knights of Hyrule.

"Don't move," Link told the injured Zora Queen, drew his sword and took position directly in front of her. He had not saved her from Darion's killers to so her now fall victim to his cavaliers.

_There are at least thirty of them, and they're all wearing plate armour. What exactly am I doing? What can I hope to achieve?_

_No matter what I do, it's better than doing nothing. That's as true now as it was ten minutes ago._

The advancing knights did not slow down just because Link was making a stand in front of them, but moments before they came into his sword's range, Thallius raised a hand, and the entire unit stopped.

"I'll try to talk to him again," Link heard the queen's voice behind him, and saw her step up to his side. He made a step forward to be able to protect her better, but did not push her back.

"Queen Narala," Thallius said, acknowledging her presence. "I would make a witty remark about how quickly fortunes can reverse, but I'd rather spare both of us the emotional anguish of me trying to make witty remarks."

"Indeed." Narala still sounded as though she was in control of the situation without a hint of fear in her voice; like Link, she must have used the precious few seconds left to them to find new resolve. "Tell me, Thallius, how fare my men?"

"If you have to ask the enemy about the status of your forces, doesn't that speak for itself?" the Knight Commander asked. "We have broken through their defences on all main tunnels, and they have, for the most part, surrendered. I assure you that all who laid down their weapons will be spared."

"If for nothing else, I must thank you for that," Narala said with audible relief. "Now, in regards to the matter we spoke about earlier... I don't assume you changed your mind during your brief stay in the holding cells?"

Thallius gravely shook his head. "I didn't. But if you have any new information to give me, I will at least hear it."

Narala briefly glanced at Link, then smiled sadly. "No, not really. Just another horrid anecdote or two about Darion, but not the proof you want." Link protested; he at least wanted to try and reason with Thallius, but Narala waved him aside. "It's no good. He's a simple man. He believes what he sees, not what he's told."

"That companion of yours," Thallius said after really looking at Link for the first time, "he's a Hylian. Not exactly the bodyguard I would have expected."

"I've taken a different path since last we met, general," Link said.

"Link? Is that you?" Thallius asked. "I didn't even recognize you in that-"

"Yes, I get that alot."

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me you deserted?"

"Oh yes, I did," Link said bitterly. "Do you want to know why?"

"Look here, Link," Thallius said with a generous sympathy which Link found belittling, "I'm sure you've seen a lot of disagreeable things in the last few days, but these things happen in war. That doesn't mean the prince ordered them to."

"But he did!" Link shouted, and found that his voice was shaking as well as his swordarm. "I talked to him. He said it was fine to torture people as long as it got him his precious Triforce a little bit sooner! That's the kind of man you're serving!"

Thallius drew his breath in between his teeth, and several of his knights reacted in a similar fashion. "That's a grave accusation," he said, "but not much different from what Queen Narala told me earlier. And it's still only words."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Link shouted.

"Well for starters, the fact that you're standing next to the enemy leader, pointing a sword at your own general doesn't exactly do wonders for your credibility," Thallius pointed out.

"What are you talking about?" Link fumed. "I made the only choice I could live with, and you're trying to-"

"My jests are warmly received, as usual," Thallius interrupted his outburst, but Link refused to see anything funny about the whole situation. He looked at Narala, but the Zora Queen only gave him a shrug that said 'I told you he wouldn't listen'.

"Hear me out, Link," Thallius said earnestly. "I apologize. I respect your choices, although I don't agree with them, and I take both your accusations very seriously. And because of that, Queen Narala, my offer from before still stands. My knights and I will shield you from Lohgrimm and Shaz and anybody who would lay hands against you until we've reached Keeptown, where the prince will have an opportunity to speak in his defence. And this time," he added almost apologetically, "you're not in a position to refuse."

"Ha! So that's how you want it to be," Link said harshly. "Drag her in front of Darion like a lamb before the butcher. But I won't allow you to do this." He extended his arm and pointed his sword at Thallius. "I'll fight to protect her, even against you!"

Several knights moved in Link's direction, but their general held them back with a movement of his hand. "Now, now," he said without indicating that he feared Link's threat, "let's not say things we can't take back. Depending on how this sordid matter plays out, we can perhaps overlook your desertion. But for now, you're a prisoner. Hand over your sword."

"No." Link had already made the decision to die rather than let Narala be killed, so he did not waste time thinking about it again. Thallius was still not impressed by his attitude; in fact, he looked almost annoyed – and of course Link knew that, when it came to it, killing him would be little more than an annoyance for the thirty knights in front of him.

"Be reasonable, Link," he said. "Even I can't protect you from yourself. I promise you Narala will be allowed to confront the prince, and that I shall protect her until then."

"'Until then' isn't good enough. It doesn't matter if she survives the way to Keeptown, because Darion will simply kill her the moment you parade her in front of him!"

"He won't."

"What are your guarantees?" Link demanded. "Your faith in him? I don't share that faith."

Thallius looked almost pleadingly at Narala, as if he expected her to tell Link to stand down, but to his relief, she did no such thing and coldly stared back at the general.

"Look, you're not even in a position to negotiate," Thallius tried a different angle. "Even if you fight now, even if you manage to kill one or two of my knights... in the end, you will die, and very quickly."

"At least I'll die doing what is right. A sentiment you knights should understand."

"Oh, we honestly do. And it's quite a predicament, since I don't care much about you dying here, and for no good reason. Even though you're not on my side any longer, you have qualities that more men should have." Thallius hesitated and stared at the ceiling for a while before he continued. "Very well, Link I'll be generous and offer the following: You will surrender your sword and your person to me. In return, I will take over your job as protector of Queen Narala," he raised his hand to stave off Link's protest, "even in the face of Prince Darion. Should he try to lay hands on her, I will do what you would do in that situation. Is that acceptable?"

It sounded good, Link had to admit in spite of himself. After all, Thallius was a seasoned veteran, so Narala would probably be even better off with him as her guardian. But could he trust the general's offer? It all depended on how serious Thallius took his own ideals.

"Link," Narala touched his arm and whispered in his ear, "I think this is the best we can hope for. This gives us the opportunity to expose Darion's crimes in front of his own men. It's better than a heroic last stand." He did not look at her as she spoke, preferring to keep an eye on Thallius and his knights, but he thought he saw a smile from the corner of his eye when she added: "Although I truly appreciate the notion."

_Well, it's not like I want to die young. And she's probably better at gauging a proposal like this, so I should listen to her._

"All right," Link said, sheathed his sword and handed the scabbard over to Thallius. "But I want it back when all is said and done!"

"That would be my wish, as well," Thallius said and fastened the sheath on his belt. "Don't worry, I won't lose it. Now, if the two of you would come quietly, as they say? I want to meet up with Lohgrimm and his men, and return to Keeptown as soon as possible, if only to keep the pillaging from getting out of control."

"Pillaging?" Narala asked fearfully.

"You were prepared for that when you had a third of Keeptown put to the flame, no?" Thallius replied. "Not that I'm condoning their actions, but-"

"Yes, I understand," Narala cut him off. "Let's go, then."

"I'll also have a healer look at these wounds of yours," Thallius said. "How did you get them anyway?"

"Sheikah," she replied curtly. "Being extreme in their methods, as usual. My royal guard killed them all, but they, too, fell to the last man." Link almost corrected her, then realized that she was lying in order to protect him from being charged with the killing of his own dubious 'comrades'.

"Is that so?" Thallius asked and looked suspiciously at Link. "How convenient."

"Not for any of the dead, I would say," Narala replied. "Now let's get going, shall we?" Thallius decided not to further pursue the issue and nodded. "Take these two in the middle," he told his knights, "and try not to let them escape, should they be so bold. We're moving back to the staging area."

During the conversation Narala must have gathered new strength, for she actually started walking on her own power, although her gait was shaky and unsteady. As the knights encircled them, Link opened his mouth to renew his offer to carry the Zora Queen, but she shook her head before he could say anything. As a compromise, Link offered her his arm in support, and she accepted it with a pained sigh. She hung her head in shame as she walked, and Link hoped for her sake that they would not encounter any Zora who would see their bleeding and defeated queen being led away out of her own domain.

_What a miserable turn of events,_ he thought. _But at least things can't get much worse from here on out._

_Right?_


	29. In the Dragon's Den

**Chapter 29: In the Dragon's Den**

The structure looming before the two sisters was a massive, circular building of indeterminable purpose, built with massive ashlar rocks and surrounded by six tall pillars rising high above the main structure, adorned with the Hylian crest of bird and Triforce. Smaller pillars and auxiliary structures surrounded it, all of them deserted and devoid of any proof of habitation, recent or otherwise.

It was the time just after sunrise, when the chill of night had gone, but the scorching heat of the day could not yet be felt, and not even the omnipresent desert wind was blowing at this early hour. This short reprieve from the usually relentless climate combined with the utter stillness of the imposing structure before them made Koume and Kotake feel as though they had stepped out of time, into a strange and insulated place that could not have been many visitors over the centuries.

"Eerie," Koume said as she set foot on the first step leading up to the main entrance. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"How should I know," Kotake replied. "I've never been here. But I doubt there are more buildings like this in the desert. Come on," she said, moved past her sister and climbed the stairs. "We wasted so much time looking for this place, we might as well go in."

"Don't talk like I forced you to come," Koume defended herself as she followed her sister. "You agreed. And besides, it didn't take that much time."

"No, only a damn cold night riding in circles through the darkness until we stumbled across this place by sheer luck."

"Aren't you usually the one telling me to stop complaining?" Koume asked. Kotake snorted and chose not to grace her with an answer.

_If she had a good reason against coming here, she would have told me in no uncertain terms, back when I suggested it. She's just complaining for its own sake. Maybe her scar is acting up or something._

They arrived at the door, which seemed to consist of a single stone slab with no visible handle or lock. Kotake began moving her palms up and down the door, probably looking for a more subtle opening mechanism, but Koume decided to be more straightforward. However, knocking at the door with her fists did not only hurt, but also did not make much of a noise, so she made a few steps back, put her hands to her mouth and shouted: "Hello? Anybody at home?"

"No need to give up so soon," Kotake said and ceased her fumblings, looking annoyed. "I would have found a way in if you had just given me a minute or two."

"You think breaking into the home of a man who owns a dragon is a good idea?"

"You and that dragon. It wasn't that big... and not that scary."

"Oh, it was. It definitely was." Koume shuddered. There was no way she was going to be on that green monstrosity's bad side ever again. She wanted to meet the Arbiter, but not without him knowing and instructing his 'pet' to behave.

A minute passed without any signs of life coming from within the large building. Koume shouted again, walking back and forth along the curved wall, and even got her sister to reluctantly join in. But after several more minutes, there was still no answer.

"He's probably taking his cute little dragon for a walk," Kotake said mockingly. "Or he's drilling for water in the inner desert. Or flying through the air chasing mirages." She grinned. "That old man wasn't quite there, if you know what I mean."

"Oh shut up," Koume said. "You agreed to this. And he's bound to know more about magic and stuff than Garanth, or anybody at the oasis." She checked the pouch fastened to her belt for the thousandth time since escaping from Keeptown, just to make sure the Triforce piece was still there. Thankfully, it was. "If anybody knows what this thing is and what exactly we are supposed to do with it, it's him."

"He's still a Hylian," Kotake griped. "How can we trust him?"

"You admitted yourself that he was nice enough when we met him. So either come up with a good reason not to trust him, or be silent."

"Ooh, I'm scared. Not so meek anymore, eh, sister?"

"I was never meek," Koume protested. "You were just overly confrontational." She looked at her sister's leg, where the deep red scar was visible beneath the matching cut in her trousers. "Maybe your near-death experience simply mellowed you a bit."

"In your dreams," her sister snorted. "Now shut up."

"No, you."

"I hate to interrupt this highly intellectual discourse of yours," a man's voice suddenly sounded from above, "but could you please explain why you're making such a ruckus at such an ungodly hour?" The sisters looked up simultaneously, dropping their argument, and saw a man sitting on the outside of a window sill of the highest story. His bare, tanned legs were dangling from below a green, wrinkled robe that was far too short for him, and his long, white hair was unbraided and dishevelled. A deep scowl adorned his leathery face, and he looked like a grumpy, old man who had just been roused from his sleep by a bunch of disrespectful youngsters.

_Which is exactly what happened_, Koume realized. _It's still early in the morning, after all._

"Well? What do you have to say in your defence? Seriously, if all my visitors were as discourteous as you..." His voice trailed off and paused for a second. "Now that I mention it, I don't really get any visitors these days, so I'm willing to forgive your transgression. Now, who do we have here?"

Before either sister could answer, the Arbiter had vanished from his sill and instantly reappeared right in front of them, and Koume noted with satisfaction that neither she or her sister flinched, since they had already been acquainted with the concept of teleportation. The wizard rubbed his sleepy eyes and inspected his would-be guests, and recognition set in almost immediately.

"Ah, you're the young ladies from... uh... from before. How long ago was it again? I'm sorry, I can't be bothered with a calendar, so I often lose track of the days."

Koume noticed her sister stiffening next to her, and remembered that the old wizard's carefree attitude had already angered her when they had first met. She, too, had strong feelings in that regard, but it was not resentment for his carelessness as much as envy for his power. It was a pipe dream, naturally, and not one she had spent much time on ever since their first encounter, but the thought of perhaps learning a bit of magic themselves was extremely attractive.

"It was about ten days ago," she hurried and shot a glance at her sister that said 'don't say anything rash that will put him off! "When you were out with your dragon looking for water."

"Did you actually find water?" Kotake asked in an admirable attempt at small talk.

"No," the Arbiter replied, "not yet. But we've only covered about one thirtieth of the desert so far, so I'm not giving up hope." He was quite pleased that Kotake remembered and took an interest in his project, albeit feigned (which he seemed not to notice). "Progress is going slow, however, because of Ixis. He can be truly energetic when properly motivated, but most of the time he's just sleeping, and even I can't get him to go outside, even if I merely want to take him for a walk." The old Hylian sighed. "He's lazy even for a dragon."

"That's... too bad," Koume said, unsure of her words, since the strange wizard still was an enigma to her. "Maybe you should get a different one?"

"Oh, no, out of the question," the Arbiter said and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It is not proper to abandon one's pet for such a trifling reason! And besides, dragons have become very rare these days. Whenever a dragon reaches maturity, some misguided hero usually appears out of nowhere and slays him. It really is highly aggravating."

_Will somebody think of these poor helpless beasts? The gall of these heroes_, Koume thought to herself. But she did not say that out loud, because the Arbiter, while old and eccentric, was clearly far from senile, and would have picked up on her sarcasm immediately.

"But I'm rambling," the Arbiter said and looked at the sisters. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Koume opened her mouth to answer, but he started speaking again and cut her off. "Oh, how discourteous of me! While I can't volunteer my name for reasons of secrecy, and hope that the honorific title your king gave me shall suffice, I have yet to ask for your names, young ladies!"

"I'm Koume," Koume said, and pointed at her sister. "She's Kotake. Don't worry if you mix us up, it happens all the time."

"I'll do my best," the Arbiter said cheerfully. "But I'm forgetting my hospitality. Let's go inside, shall we?" Koume nodded, and the sisters turned toward the heavy stone door, waiting for the wizard to open it for them. The old man gave them a curious look, then understood and shook his head.

"No, we're not going in through there. Don't take me wrong, I'm not above using doors, but just look at this thing! It must weigh a ton. I could blast it away, I suppose, but I'd rather leave the premises intact while I'm borrowing them."

"Borrowing?" Kotake asked. "You didn't build this place?"

"Oh no. The ancient Hylians did, centuries ago. It served as their main base in the desert region, but after the last of the great wars between Hylians and Gerudo, it was abandoned when the Hylians withdrew all of their forces."

Koume knew almost nothing about history, nor did her sister, but that did not prevent Kotake from exclaiming: "Ha! I guess our ancestors showed them what's what!" The Arbiter, however, shook his head.

"Actually, the old Gerudo suffered a decisive defeat. But for some reason, the Hylians withdrew from the desert after their final victory and never again bothered to return."

"Yes, they were satisfied with containing us in the desert," Kotake spat.

"What didn't they ever come back?" Koume asked.

"An excellent question," the Arbiter said. "But to be painfully honest, I cannot answer it, since I did not bother learning many details about history before my exile. I acquired a bit of an interest after moving in here, but the Gerudos' tradition of oral history only dates a few generations back, so there wasn't much to learn for me in that regard."

"What do you know about our traditions?" Kotake asked suspiciously.

"No need to get suspicious, Lady Kotake," the Arbiter said, "I am not spying on your people. All the knowledge I have about you stems from the time I was asked to arbitrate between your two princes, and I took the opportunity to have several nice, long chats with your tribe's elders."

"Oh. Yes. That time," Kotake remembered and fell silent.

"How did you do that, anyway?" Koume asked. "I mean, convincing Astalor to let Garanth become king, even though he was the older brother."

"I'm sorry," the Arbiter said firmly, "but I am honour-bound to exercise strict discretion on that matter. But it wasn't very exciting, so I doubt you would even be interested. Oh, and I assure you that there was absolutely no mind control of any sort involved."

"We weren't implying anything," Koume said quickly. "No offence."

"None taken," came the Arbiter's friendly reply. "But I'd really prefer to continue our conversation inside, so if you would prepare yourselves?" The twins glanced at each others, and both knew that he was going to teleport them again. Koume noted that her sister even seemed to look forward to it, intrigued by the old man's powerful magic as much as she was.

_We really have to ask him to teach us one of these days. In a roundabout way, of course._

They sisters nodded at the wizard, and with a small gesture of the Arbiter's hand, their surroundings changed instantly and completely. Koume found that it was much less disorienting when one was prepared, and immediately looked around. They were in a large rectangular room inside the building, generously illuminated by the sun's beams shining in through a window. The stone walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books and nothing else, except for a writing desk and a huge armchair situated in the very centre of the room.

_It looks like one would imagine a wizened wizard's study,_ Koume thought. _Much tidier than that of the Sheikah woman._

"You were sleeping... in here?" she heard Kotake's surprised voice.

"No, this is my library," the Arbiter replied. "My bedroom is next door." He looked down his own body with a critical expression on his face. "In fact, I seem to be still in my sleeping robes. Allow me to go and change. Feel free to look around." Without waiting for the twins' answer, the wizard left them, using the wooden door at the far end of the room like a normal person.

"He's his usual charming self," Kotake mumbled, but her sister did not reply. Instead, she snatched a random volume from the closest shelf and opened it. Although she dared not have hoped for something along the lines of 'Magical Self-Training for Beginners', she still was disappointed when she found that the book was completely in Hylian letters, as were, upon further inspection, all the others.

_Of course they would be. He's a Hylian, after all. What a shame..._

"Damn it! It's all in Hylian," she heard Kotake say, and smiled inwardly when she realized that her sister had had exactly the same intentions as her. "Maybe he'll read it to us, if we ask nicely," she replied, which only earned her a critical frown from Kotake. "Don't get your hopes up," she said as though she had not shared the same hopes, "the books probably aren't even about magic."

"About a third of them are, actually," the Arbiter's voice suddenly came from the direction of the door, which made both of the sisters flinch and almost drop their respective books. "Why, are you interested in learning magic?" he continued as he walked into the room and closed the door behind him. "Is that why you came here?"

Koume looked at the Arbiter, surprised that he had already returned, and told herself to calm down; after all, they had been allowed to look around. He was wearing sandals now, as well as a beige robe that did not look much different from the first, except that it was longer and actually reached down to his feet. He had also combed and braided back his hair, which made Koume realized how unkempt she and her sister must appear in comparison after days of travelling, hiding, almost dying, more hiding, and more travelling.

"You... you would allow that?" Kotake asked incredulously.

"I have had many students of magic in the past," the Arbiter said and walked past the sisters, moved his armchair so it faced them, and sat down. "I believed – and I still believe – that magical knowledge should be spread, because it can be used for great good. Great evil, too, of course, and I am always concerned about that. But it is only when one approaches a certain power level that the dangers outweigh the benefits." He folded his hands and looked intently at the sisters. "Which is to say, I'm not opposed to teaching you, and I might actually find it enjoyable, like I used to."

_This is great! Who could have thought he'd be so-_

"However!" The Arbiter lifted a finger, interrupting Koume's internal jubilations. " I have made it my ironclad rule to never teach anybody without getting to know them first. Judge their character, you know. After all, magic can be used to heal as well as to hurt."

"I see," Kotake said coldly. "It's because we're Gerudo. We can't be trusted with the Hylian secrets of magic."

"No, no, absolutely not!" the Arbiter protested. "I have left such concepts as race behind me decades ago. As I said, it's a rule that applies to everyone, and has always applied to everyone, Hylians, Sheikah or otherwise." He cocked his head. "Of course, you two would be the first 'otherwise', but..."

"Actually, that isn't really why we're here," Koume interrupted him. "I mean, not the main reason, at least." _I have to change the topic, or Kotake is going to say something to anger him._ "We wanted to show you something and ask your opinion about it." Kotake glared at her, her unreasonable suspicions against the Arbiter reignited, but Koume was the one holding the cards, and she would stick to the original plan. Ignoring her sister's stare, she produced the Triforce piece from her pouch and held it in front of the Arbiter's face. "Do you know what this is?" she asked.

"It's certainly shiny," the wizard replied immediately and leaned forward in order to take a closer look at it. "It looks like enchanted gold, but-" He stopped in mid-sentence, opened his mouth wide and leapt out of his chair. Without thinking, Koume jumped backwards in reflex, and Kotake stepped in between them with one of her sabres drawn and pointed at the Arbiter. But instead of backing off, the old wizard seized the sabre at its tip with his right hand, performed a quick gesture with his left, and Kotake screamed when the blade's metal instantly turned red-hot, melted and dripped off the hilt to the ground, where it left a steaming puddle of rapidly cooling liquid iron. The Arbiter, too, screamed and withdrew his terribly burnt and disfigured hand.

Koume jumped to her sister's side as soon as she had registered what had happened and seized her hand. Kotake had dropped the charred wooden hilt almost instantly, but her hand, too, had been burnt, though nowhere near as badly as the Arbiter's, and she clenched her teeth and hissed in pain when Koume took a closer look at it.

_Why do you have to be so protective! He wasn't going to take it, he was just surprised! Damn it, what now? How do I treat this wound?_

A soft green light suddenly illuminated the room, and Koume looked up to see the Arbiter pressing his palms against each other. The light was emanating from his healthy hand and expanded around its ruined counterpart. After a few seconds, it faded again, and when the Arbiter raised his completely restored hand, Koume realized that she had witnessed healing magic at work once again, but this time, much more potent than the one contained in the Sheikah woman's spellsphere.

"My sister!" she pleaded with the wizard. "Help her, too!"

Without words, the Arbiter nodded, stepped forward and seized Kotake's burnt hand. Her sister shied away from him, but Koume grabbed her shoulders and held her in place long enough for the Arbiter to cast his spell a second time, with the same resounding success as with the first application. Koume breathed a prolonged sigh of relief and, after making sure that Kotake was not about to do something reckless again, stumbled forward and collapsed in the Arbiter's armchair, closing her eyes.

_This is just too much. I want to get back to stealing from Hylian farmsteads again._

"Pardon me, Lady Kotake," she heard the Arbiter speak, "but I must insist that you do not point any more sharp objects at me. You see, even at my age, my reflexes are still good, and I wouldn't want to seriously injure you by accident." His voice sounded utterly unshaken by the rapid series of events, and even went so far as to giggle slightly. "When I told you that magic could both hurt and heal, I wasn't planning on a demonstration like this. No hard feelings, I hope."

"No... hard feelings?" Kotake whispered incredulously.

"Splendid!" the Arbiter said, misunderstanding her. "Now, to get back to the topic at hand..." Koume opened her eyes and saw that he had turned around and was standing before her. "I wasn't actually going to take it without asking. So, could you let me have a look at this for a short time? I promise I'll give it back to you."

In her current state, Koume probably would have handed the Triforce piece over to Darion if only he had asked her nicely, so she stretched out her hand that was still clenched around it, opened her fist and allowed the wizard to take the golden triangle. Kotake hissed, but made no sudden movement against the Arbiter, having learned her lesson well. Holding it with three fingers, the wizard raised it in front of his eyes and inspected it closely for a minute. Then, to Koume's shock, he repeated the same hand gesture he had used to destroy Kotake's sabre, but the Triforce piece did not even glow slightly, let alone melt. The Arbiter pursed his lips and nodded to himself, then directed his attention to his visitors once again.

"If this had been made from gold, as it looks like, that spell would have turned it into a puddle on the floor," he said flatly. "Therefore, I conclude that it is what I think it is."

"So you know about it," Koume said. "I had hoped you would."

"To think that it could be split into pieces... I assume there are three of them, yes? But the individual pieces have no power of their own, or I would have felt its approach long before you arrived on my doorstep."

"So it is true?" Koume asked while she manoeuvred her sister, who was still in a dazed state, into the now empty armchair in spite of her weak protests. "These triangles, when brought together, give the owner the power of a god."

"Which is why it is the most closely-guarded secret in the kingdom of Hyrule." The Arbiter frowned and looked at the two sisters again. "I wonder how you got your hands on it?"

"It's a long story," Koume said quickly, unsure whether the wizard's loyalties still lay with his own kind, even though he had protested that notion before. "Let's just say that Hyrule is in turmoil right now, and this thing kind of... fell into our laps."

"Fell into your laps?" the Arbiter asked and raised both eyebrows. "That's hard to believe, considering the security measures that were in place last time I checked. Which was twenty years ago, but still. That must be some pretty big turmoil." Koume was wary to provide any more detail, and to her relief, the Arbiter did not request any. It seemed as he had lost any interests in the affairs of his homeland long ago. "So what do you plan to do with it?" he asked.

"To be honest, we don't know."

"You could try to re-assemble it and make a bid for absolute power," he suggested.

"Uh... yes. The thought has crossed my mind." The thought had not, in fact, crossed Koume's mind, since any attempt to gather the remaining Triforce pieces would have required them to kill Darion, and she did not plan to get anywhere near the mad prince in the foreseeable future.

"Of course, now that I know about your plans, you have to kill me, don't you?"

_What the hell? Is he joking? _Koume asked herself, and was relieved when the Arbiter grinned and shook his head. _There's no way I'm going to try and kill this guy. I value my life, thank you very much._

"I jest, of course. As do you. If that was truly your intention, you would not have come here and created a security risk by telling me. The simple truth is that you are in it way over your head, and have no idea what to do with it. Perhaps you're even being pursued?"

The sisters had anticipated pursuers, naturally, and taken measures to throw them off their track. Once they had entered the desert, there was no way anybody could follow their trail, so Koume considered herself safe. At least until Darion led an entire army into the desert to get back what he thought belonged to him.

"There's somebody after us, after the Triforce," Koume admitted, "and we don't want him to have it. And we thought, since you're a wizard, you know what to do with it. Maybe destroy it?"

"Destroying it is not in my power, I'm afraid," the Arbiter said. "Of course you could always just throw away somewhere in the sand, never to be found again... but that wouldn't protect you from your pursuers, because they'd believe you still have it. My, what a predicament."

_Yes, now that I think about it... we have given Darion a reason to go to war against the Gerudo. Garanth was right: We are troublemakers._

"So why don't you keep it?" Kotake suddenly said from her chair, having recovered from her shock. "You knew the Triforce existed, so you obviously never had the motivation to go and get it yourself. And you're a powerful wizard – you can defend yourself against Da... against our pursuer."

_Actually, I was about to make that suggstion. And I expected you to protest against simply giving it away. He must have made an impression on you, sister._

"Even the most powerful wizard can be easily done in by a knife to the heart, or a blow to the head," the Arbiter said sagely and took a musing look at the Triforce piece that was still in his hand. "But I have always feared that something like this might happen... that strife might some day erupt over the ownership of the Triforce. Maybe that's why I left," he said in a reminiscing tone. "I didn't want to be there when things went to hell, like it sounds they did. Quite a cowardly act, if you think about it."

"No need to feel ashamed," Kotake said. "That's how everyone is. Concerned about their own safety, I mean."

"Ah, but you don't know!" the Arbiter exclaimed. "In a way, the Triforce is my responsibility, because it was I who discovered the portal to the Sacred Realm, and the temple that housed the Triforce."

"You did?" both sisters asked simultaneously.

"I did," the Arbiter nodded. "I wasn't much older than you back then, and the youngest member of the Seven Sages in recorded history. Quite eager to please, too, and so I told the king about my discovery. If I had hidden or even collapsed the portal instead, then that 'turmoil' currently happening in Hyrule – and I have a feeling I don't even want to know the sordid details – could have been prevented."

"So you would keep the Triforce piece?" Koume asked. "Or at least help us defend it against our pursuers?" The thought of the Arbiter's powerful destructive magic being brought to bear against Darion warmed her heart.

"I will consider it," the old wizard said. "But even though I'm an exile, I must learn more about what happened in Hyrule. Until I make my decision, please take it back into your care." He handed the Triforce piece over to Koume, who accepted it without objection and put it back into her belt pouch. "So yeah, about what's going on in Hyrule..." she said, and promptly hesitated. "Actually, we don't even know that much about it, just bits and pieces we overheard."

"It's not pretty," Kotake interjected. "Conspiracies, torture, murder, war – the whole shebang."

"From the beginning, please," the Arbiter said, at least outwardly unmoved. "Everything you know, that is."

But before either sister could speak up, the door to the library was thrown open and a skeleton walked into the room.

_Wait, what?_

"Help! I need help!" the skeleton spoke – yes, it was actually speaking, Koume realized, and with an almost ordinary-sounding voice, too. "Please, help me."

"What is this thing?" Kotake shouted and rose from the armchair, but seemed hesitant to draw her remaining sabre. Koume, too, chose not to do anything rashly – after all, the Arbiter was powerful enough do defend all three of them if it came to that.

_It must be a Stalfos Knight. It's wearing a helmet, and there's a sword on its back! But I thought they only existed in stories..._

"To think that we would be joined by another visitor," the Arbiter said calmly, as if the new arrival was at all comparable to the flesh-and-blood Gerudo sisters. "I haven't had any guests in years, and they're almost piling up today."

"Please, I beg of you," the Stalfos continued to plead, "before I succumb to his orders! You must... no." If a skull could look bewildered, then this one certainly did now. "It can't be! It's you!"

"Have we met before?" the Arbiter asked. "I don't usually associate with the undead – not out of prejudice, mind you. You could say I don't usually associate with anybody. Regardless, you-"

"Sage Mudora! It's you, isn't it?"

Turning his head ever so slightly, the Arbiter made a step forward and suspiciously eyed the tall skeleton in front of him. "I haven't been called by that name in twenty years," he said. "Who are you?"

The Stalfos laughed; a strange, sorrowful sound that would have been unnerving even if it had come from a living throat. "Of course you don't recognize me," he said. "I am General Belemor, commander of the Hylian army. We met many times at the court of King Artaxis." His panicked voice returned before the Arbiter could even answer. "But there's no time for this! I beg of you, as a fellow Hylian! Kill me, please!"

"Aren't you already dead?" Kotake asked, which Koume found very tactless. Even though neither of them knew anything about proper etiquette concerning the undead, this one was clearly wrecked with some deep sorrow.

_Wait, I'm empathizing a bit too fast. I mean, he died already. How much worse can it get?_

"General Belemor?" the Arbiter asked. "Now that you say it... your voice sounds familiar. And that helmet proves it, too. Yes, I remember. You died in combat years before I left the Keep. How did you-"

"There is no time for that!" the Stalfos general shouted. "I am slave to a cruel master now, and I can't delay his orders for long!"

"Yes," the Arbiter nodded absent-mindedly, "That's the predicament of all Stalfos, to obey the one who raised them, until that person dies. But there's no reason for despair, my friend. There might be a way to release you from the invisible chains that bind you. I read about it in a book, but I never had the opportunity to test it." He turned around and walked to the closest shelf. "I think it was somewhere around here... or was it over there?"

The skeletal general opened his mouth, but no sounds escaped. Instead, he sank to his knees and looked pleadingly at Kotake, then her sister, as if he expected them to fulfill his request where the Arbiter would not. Before Koume could seriously consider it, he was pressing both of his hands against his skull, as if he was suffering from a severe headache.

_Do skeletons even feel pain? This is all so bizarre._

"I think it was in this one... damn, why doesn't it have an index?" The Arbiter had taken a book from its shelf and was now skimming through the pages with his back turned to his visitors. "I'm sorry, general, this might take a couple of minutes."

"Can't... no time. Please..." Koume could barely understand the Stalfos whispering to himself, but his desperate tone upset her. She exchanged concerned looks with Kotake, but both sisters kept a respectful distance from the skeleton. Then, without warning, he rose to his feet, drew his large sword, leapt forward and struck at the Arbiter from behind. The blow connected to the old man's head, and he collapsed immediately, without even knowing what had hit him. Koume shrieked in horror, but drew her sabres even as she did so.

"I didn't kill him," the Stalfos said with audible relief, then turned around to face the Gerudo sisters. Indeed, Koume saw, there was no blood around the motionless body, which meant the undead fiend must have used the flat side of his blade to knock the Arbiter out. She wondered whether it had happened by accident or intentionally, but had no time to wonder.

"You! You are the ones! The Gerudo thieves!" the skeleton said and made a step toward them.

"Bah! Even dead Hylians are prejudiced against us!" Kotake spat out and moved to Koume's side, pointing her remaining sabre at the Stalfos. _Actually, we are thieves_, Koume wanted to say, but found it too silly; after all, a random reanimated skeleton could not possibly know about–

"Darion!" Koume shouted when realization struck her. "He sent him after us!"

"He even commands the dead?" Kotake asked with a hint of fear.

"You have the Triforce piece! Give it to me! You have to!" The Stalfos' words clearly confirmed Koume's theory. "I don't have to kill you if you give it to me!"

"Ha, nice try," Kotake mocked his pleas and looked at Koume. "We're taking him down!" she said and lunged at the skeletal warrior, who deftly parried her sabre with his broadsword. His strike was strong enough to send Kotake reeling back, which forced Koume to jump in and take the heat off her sister by attacking the Stalfos from the side.

_How can he be so strong? He doesn't even have any muscles! That's magic for you, I guess._

Koume managed to stab their opponent's side with her right sabre, and the blade entered his ribcage, piercing the empty air in his chest cavity. _Yeah, great success_, she thought as she staggered forward, unbalanced by the force of her own thrust that would have absorbed by the enemy's flesh, if only he had had any flesh. She managed to regain her balance before colliding with the Stalfos, but her right sabre had been stuck between its ribs and she had to abandon it when the enemy swung his sword at her in a wide arc that would have mutilated her if she had not pulled back her hand quickly.

_The only way to hurt him is to sever the bones of his limbs_, Koume thought and gripped her remaining sabre with both hands. _We can't crack the skull because of that garish helmet. And it even has a neckguard so we can't cut off the head, either._ She got a glancing hit in at the Stalfos' upper arm when he turned around to swing at Kotake again, but the angle of impact was way off, and so she merely left a scratch on the yellowed bone.

"Don't give up!" Kotake encouraged her while dodging a massive blow targeted at her. "We can defeat him!"

"Please give the Triforce piece to me!" the Stalfos shouted pointlessly. "Or I will take it from you! I was ordered to!"

"So what?" Koume asked. "Don't you have a mind of your own? I mean, what's in that skull of yours, air?"

"You don't understand! The magic is making me move on my own! I can't stop myself!"

_Controlling someone's body against their will?_ The notion was indeed terrible, and Koume sympathized; not that it changed the fact that she was fighting for her life._ Darion really knows no limits. Even if I ever learned magic, I wouldn't do something like that in a hundred years!_

"If you don't give it to me, then kill me!" the Stalfos yelled with a desperate voice that sounded very strange coming from an ancient skeletal warrior. "Please, kill me! I beg of you!"

"I'd love to kill you," Koume said and tried to cut off the Stalfos' right arm, but missed when he span around to parry a strike from Kotake. "But it would be so much easier if you would just hold still!"

"Kill me," the Stalfos whimpered, ignoring Koume's entirely reasonable request. "Please..." His voice trailed off, and he continued to attack the sisters with all his unnatural strength. Even though they were coming at him from two different directions, they could scarcely take advantage of that, since their surroundings were rather unsuitable for close-quarters-combat: More than once, Koume's sabre got stuck in one of the wooden shelves, and she had to temporarily abandon it until her sister distracted the Stalfos long enough for her to pull it out. Not to mention the Arbiter's unconscious body was still lying in front of one of the shelves, where he was in constant danger of being stepped on or even hit by accident.

"We should move the fight somewhere else," Koume shouted to her sister, and Kotake nodded in agreement. She nimbly circled around the Stalfos after dodging one of his thrusts and joined her sister who was closer to the door. They quickly slipped through the frame, threw the door shut and turned the key. They had entered a narrow corridor that was just as unsuitable for fighting as the library had been, but there was no going back now.

"Which direction?" Koume asked between two hurried gasps, enjoying a short reprieve as the Stalfos banged against the door from the inside.

"Doesn't matter," Kotake replied, and Koume chose the left side since the next corner was closer there. She came to regret that choice when, an instant later, a huge armored boar with a spear turned around that same corner and looked at the sisters with a surprised smile.

"Hello there!"

"W-what kind of freak show is this?" Koume shouted in disbelief. The boar ignored her insult and lowered his spear while still smiling. "Where's the boneman?" he asked and advanced toward the sisters. "You better not killed him!"

"Come on!" Koume heard her sister's voice, and, shaking off her surprise, followed Kotake back into the opposite direction. They had just passed the locked door to the library when the Stalfos' broadsword tore through the wood and came uncomfortably close to impaling Koume.

"Don't stop!" Kotake yelled and raced down the corridor, away from the armored boar. "This is our chance!" Without asking what she meant, Koume followed her sister, and only realized upon turning her head that the large sword acted as a temporary barrier against their pursuer. Strangely enough, he seemed happy to see the Stalfos and even helped him cut down the splintered remains of the door. "Boneman!" his voice echoed through the corridors as the sisters took a corner. "Time to hunt!"

"What's a Moblin doing here?" Kotake asked, though clearly not expecting her sister to come up with an answer.

_Moblins! Yes, that's what they're called. But I thought they only existed in... wait, I already thought that once today._

The fleeing sisters passed several closed doors, but ignored them, since any of them could have led into a windowless room that would have been a death trap for them. After another turn, they reached a spiral staircase leading up, and although they would rather have gone toward the ground story where the exit must be, Koume and Kotake had no choice but to follow the stairs.

"Are they even following us?" Koume asked. "Not that I'd take the chance to-"

"Little girls! Are you still there?" the Moblin's enthusiastic shout echoed from below them. "We get you now!"

"There's your answer," Kotake said and laughed wryly. "At least one of them is enjoying himself."

They followed the staircase for at least two stories' worth, until it suddenly ended in an inconspicuous stone door that, for one heart-stopping moment, looked like an immovable part of the wall. There was a lever next to it, and before Koume could point it out, Kotake had already pulled it, and the door slowly opened to a large, badly lit room. As soon as the opening was wide enough, the sisters slipped through it. The first thing Koume noticed was the sand beneath their feet, but a short glance at the high ceiling told her that they were not outside, but at the bottom of a large, circular pit with unscalable stone walls

"Damn it, there's no lever on this side," Kotake cursed. "We can't close it."

"Then we have to go forward," Koume said and made another step on the sand. Suddenly, a soft yellow light suffused the cavernous room and illuminated it, perhaps triggered by her movement. It came from no discernible source, and was probably magic in origin, considering who lived in this building. There was nothing in the room except sand and more sand. And a large, green dragon whose familiar red eyes turned toward the two arrivals as soon as there was enough light to see.

"You've got to be kidding me," Koume said under her breath and turned around on the sport, since she would rather face the Stalfos and the Moblin than fight that green monstrosity again.

"Wait!" Kotake shouted and seized her hand. "It knows us already! It's not going to hurt us!"

"Th-that's a bit of a gamble, don't you think?"

"Come on," her sister said and pulled at Koume's hand. "Don't walk too fast, or it'll feel threatened."

"_It_ will feel threatened? How about us?" Koume asked, but allowed herself to be dragged toward the centre of the room, where the dragon's large body was coiled up. "We probably woke it up," she whispered, "and it's not going to like that." She almost shrieked when the dragon lifted its horned head, rose to its feet and made a step toward them.

"Hello there, boy," Kotake said with an unusually sweet voice. "Ixis, wasn't it? There are bad people following us. How about you eat them?"

_This is crazy! That thing is not going to listen to her!_

The dragon made another step, then lowered its head again until it was level with the sisters and sniffed, drawing in huge amounts of air through its nostrils.

"That's right. You know that smell, don't you? Your master told you we're nice people, didn't he?" Kotake approached the dragon and actually touched its lower jaw with her hand, and at this point, Koume had to turn around: She did not want to see her sister's head getting bitten off, or whatever the dragon might do to her.

_I wonder where our pursuers are... ah, there they come._

Koume watched the Moblin and the Stalfos enter through the stone door and promptly freeze in their tracks at the sight of the dragon. The Moblin looked particularly surprised, and his small eyes almost seemed to fall out of his skull.

_Yeah, you better be scared! At least as scared as I am._

"When I was little..." the Moblin spoke, and he sounded close to choking up. "My biggest dream was... a fight with a real dragon!"

_He's completely insane. Even for a Moblin._

"Boneman! Get the triangle!" the Moblin shouted and pointed his heavy spear in Koume's general direction. "I take the dragon!" The Stalfos obeyed, incapable of refusing, and ran toward the sisters, while the Moblin made a wide right turn toward the dragon's tail.

"Ha!" Kotake shouted eagerly. "So it's us against him again, and we have enough room in here. Let's finish him!"

Koume disliked the idea of letting the Moblin out of their sight, but she trusted that, if he attacked the dragon, he would at the very least be occupied, and hopefully get himself killed in the process, too. The sisters spread out, moving nimbly on the sand that covered the floor and forced the Stalfos to pick a target.

He chose Kotake, and Koume approached him from behind while his sister kept him busy. But the Stalfos, too, took advantage of the large room, or rather, the high ceiling: After forcing Kotake to leap back in order to dodge his strike, the skeleton jumped backwards, high into the air, and landed behind Koume, who spun around on the spot in order to face him. She heard Kotake's cursing voice, now behind her, and fell back in order to reunite with her.

"I didn't know he could jump that high," Koume said when she reached her and the Stalfos came close again, swinging his sword wildly in an attempt to hit at least one of them. Kotake jumped sidewards and opened her mouth, but her remark was drowned out by the dragon's loud scream. Koume's head turned almost automatically, and she saw the the Moblin had actually managed to thrust his spear into the dragon's tail and wound him, even if only lightly. The tail lashed out at him, but missed, and its owner slowly turned around to attack the Moblin with its forward claws. The Moblin was faster, though, and slipped through beneath the dragon's legs and took a jab at its soft underbelly, but it proved too high for him too reach.

_Come on, kill him! Crush him! Burn him!_ Koume cheered the dragon on, at least in her mind, when she was interrupted by her sister's annoyed yelling.

"Will you stop gaping and help me?"

Koume turned around and saw Kotake once again engaged with the Stalfos, who was giving her real trouble now that she was facing him alone. "Sorry!" she replied and resolved not to be distracted again, no matter what happened to the dragon or the Moblin, and dashed toward the Stalfos to relieve her sister. But once again, the skeleton made a huge leap backward and landed behind Koume just before she could cut off his thighbone.

_Does he have eyes on his back?_

_Come to think of it, he doesn't have any actual eyes. So he probably has some sort of magical sight. I think I'd rather fight the Moblin._ Ixis roared again behind her, furious and maybe even in pain, possibly injured again, but Koume held fast to her promise not to turn around. _Then again, maybe not, if he's even giving a dragon trouble._

After another jump, the Stalfos landed almost exactly in the middle between Koume and Kotake. Both sisters charged at him while he remained still, only turning his head once, and then jumped again when they were almost upon him. Koume gasped when she realized that they were about to impale each other, and threw herself to the side on the ground, and Kotake managed to leap over her without stumbling, and held off the skeleton's renewed attacks until Koume was standing again.

_Gods, are we stupid or what? That was, like, the oldest trick in the book._

Perhaps encouraged by his ability to confuse the sisters, the Stalfos jumped through the air with increasing frequency, covering greater and greater distances, sometimes immediately leaping back to the spot where he had just come from; apparently, magically raised skeletons could not get dizzy. All the while the Moblin continued to fight the dragon in the other half of the pit, happy like the proverbial pig in the mud, taunting his opponent and, judging from the dragon's roars, occasionally getting a hit in. It was as though there was an invisible line dividing the pit in two half-circles, since none of the combatants ever ventured into the others' half, if only not to further confuse the already chaotic fight.

_We only have to delay until the Arbiter wakes up_, Koume thought. _He'll make short work even of those two._ The Stalfos made a daring aerial attack, pointing his sword down at her while descending, but she sidestepped it and counterattacked; but before she could hit the skeleton, was was already airborne again.

_But he got hit pretty hard. He might be out for hours, if he hasn't been – no, you can't kill a wizard that easily!_

After a few more minutes of running around, chasing after the Stalfos and guarding against sudden aerial attacks, Koume was thoroughly sick of this spectacularly stupid way of fighting, and began to wonder why their enemy insisted in jumping all over the place. Why not jump on the dragon's neck instead and cut it? Not that she wanted him to do that, of course, but it would have made much more sense.

_But he can't fight the dragon_, she realized._ He was ordered to get the Triforce piece from us, and he has to obey that order._

_Which still doesn't explain why he can't seem to stay on the ground. I mean, he wants us to kill him, right? Why doesn't he sabotage himself just a little bit?_

After jumping in the air for what must be the hundredth time now, The Stalfos descended toward Kotake, who quickly moved away from the spot where he would land, like both sisters had been doing for a while now. This time, however, the Stalfos surprised both of them by throwing his sword toward the spot where Kotake would end up, which made her reflexively jump back – right back to where the Stalfos now landed. With his momentum, he knocked Kotake on the pit's sand floor and pinned her down with his arms so that she was unable to move or strike against him and was reduced to cursing at him.

"Kotake!" Koume shouted and dashed toward her, but the Stalfos moved too fast for her: He twisted Kotake's right wrist, which made her scream in pain and drop her sabre, then seized her by the collar and rose, pulling her up with him. Before Koume could reach them, he had her in a secure grip again, with one bony arm around her neck.

"Don't move!" he shouted, and Koume obeyed instantly. "Good. I'll break her neck if you make another step toward me."

_Damn him! That was his plan all along, to lull us into complacency with his jumping antics. Oh, Kotake, don't do anything stupid! Don't fight back!_

"Which one of you has the Triforce?" the Stalfos asked, his demand punctuated by a pained howl when the Moblin was hit and injured by one of the dragon's claws; but they could as well have been fighting at the other end of the desert for all the attention Koume payed them now that her sister was in mortal danger.

"Who has it?" he repeated. "Answer me!"

"I... I have it!" Koume replied.

"Don't talk to him!" Kotake admonished her. "Attack! He lost his sword!"

"Give it to me now!" the Stalfos called out to Koume. "This is your last chance."

"Don't do it!" Kotake cried. "He'll kill me anyway!"

"Be silent, woman!" the skeleton barked at her and tightened his grip around her neck. "I'm trying to save your life!" He looked at Koume again. "Don't you two get it? I don't want to kill you! What reason should I have?"

"He ordered you!" Koume shouted and pointed at the Moblin who had buried his spear in the dragon's thigh and was now holding on to the shaft, laughing like crazy, while the dragon tried to throw him off between furious roars.

"He ordered me to get the Triforce piece," the Stalfos corrected Koume, "but he said nothing about killing you. So if you hand it over, I can let you escape!" His voice sounded pleading again, like back then when he had begged the sisters to kill him. "If you can't save my soul by killing me, at least save yourselves and surrender the Triforce!"

"But we can't!" Koume shouted. "It's-"

"Is it worth more than her life?" the Stalfos cut her off.

"No," Koume replied instantly. "If you put it like this, then no. It's not." She realized that there was only one thing she could do, and loosened the pouch containing the Triforce piece from its belt. Kotake, too, seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for she did not raise any more protest.

_You could have said "Don't let him get away with this, even if he kills me!"_ Koume thought as she removed the Triforce piece from its pouch._ But, neither of us is the type to say that, isn't that right? And why should we. It's not like the world ever did us a favour._

Koume hesitated slightly when she remembered Darion, and what he might do with the 'power of the gods' when he got it. Then she realized that this would only be the second piece in his possession._ Let the Zora or whoever bleed and die to stop him from getting the third. We've done enough._

"Put down your weapon and come here, then give it to me. Don't run." The Stalfos extended his left arm, while keeping the right around Kotake's neck, and Koume obeyed, parting from the Triforce piece without regret.

"Good. Don't worry, I'll let her go soon," the skeleton said and dragged Kotake along with him to where his sword lay, picked it up and released his grip. Taking no chances, Kotake immediately broke away from him and rejoined Koume, who refrained from embracing her only because the situation was still deadly serious.

"I have it!" the Stalfos shouted out loud without turning his back to the twins. The Moblin, who was fighting on the ground again, still somehow keeping a creature twenty times his size at bay with a single spear, heard him and shouted something in confirmation. He took a final jab at the dragon's eyes when it lowered its head to bite him, missed, and then raced along the pit's circular wall while pulling his spear alongside, dragging a shower of sparks behind him and laughing and grunting like a maniac. The dragon, visibly surprised by his sudden disengagement, did not give pursuit.

"Why are you still here, you fools?" the Stalfos asked fearfully when he saw Koume and Kotake retrieve their sabres. "If he orders me to kill you, I won't be able to stop myself!"

"He's right," Koume said, "let's hurry to the exit."

"No," Kotake replied, "that way, he'll catch up to us. Follow me." She seized Koume's hand and dragged her straight through the centre of the pit toward the dragon, bypassing the Moblin who followed the wall's circumference. Koume felt rather queasy walking toward the injured beast, but it was not so badly wounded that it was unable to tell friend from foe, and did not attack the sisters when they arrived in its shadow.

"Took you long, boneman," they heard the Moblin's loud voice from a safe distance when he rejoined with his slave and took the Triforce piece from him. "But that's good. Left more time for me to fight." He turned back and looked at the dragon, completely ignoring the two Gerudo next to it. "Sorry, but I have to leave. The wizard said to hurry." He raised his blooded spear and waved. "Maybe I visit again and finish this. Don't die until then!"

The dragon eyed him suspiciously, but it was a territorial animal and not vengeful by nature. If the Moblin was going to leave, it would let him leave and start licking its wounds. The Stalfos, too, looked back, but at the women, not the dragon, his expressionless skull utterly unreadable. Koume suspected that he must be happy to have at least made a little difference in the face of his unsurmountable slavery. In spite of all his crazy jumping, her second sabre was still stuck in his ribcage, which looked kind of funny. "Come on, boneman," the Moblin grunted at him, and the two creatures left through the stone door.

"Pheeew," Koume breathed out and sat down on the floor, which was pleasantly cool as opposed to the hot desert sand. "That was too close." She looked up at Kotake and grinned. "Why do we always lose two against one?"

Her sister sighed. "Maybe sabres just aren't our forte."

"Could be."

"I hope he isn't seriously injured," Kotake said and inspected the wounds of the dragon, who had lain down on the ground again looking indifferently at the two puny creatures in front of him.

"Careful, don't poke in its wounds or anything," Koume warned her and rose again. "We should check up on the Arbiter first. He can look after his pet. Probably knows alot more about dragons, too."

"Agreed." Kotake hesitated. "But what about the Triforce piece?"

"What about it?" Koume replied nonchalantly.

"You don't want to pursue them and steal it back, again?" Kotake asked suspiciously. "I'm kind of surprised."

"You shouldn't be," Koume shook her head. "Fighting the good fight almost got you killed, twice. I'm almost glad we got rid of that thing. And now Darion has no more reason to attack us." She crossed her arms over her chest. "We don't have to save the world. Let somebody else do it."

"So you've finally seen reason," Kotake said gravely. "Come on, let's go."

The Gerudo sisters backtracked through the corridors of the Arbiter's home and returned to the library, where they found him still lying on the floor. His chest rose and fell regularly, and, recalling that his bedroom was supposed to be next door, Koume and Kotake carried him there.

"I'm positively parched," Kotake said after laying the unconscious wizard down on his bed. "He must have a water supply somewhere, probably close by. I'm going to look for it." With that, she had left the room, leaving Koume to watch over the Arbiter. She did not mind that, though, since she actually liked the old man, eccentric though he might be.

_Besides, by caring for him even though we don't have to, we demonstrate our strength of character, and he may agree to teach us magic. That would make the whole ordeal worth it._

Prompted by the crunching sound of feet walking on sand, Koume looked out of the bedroom's sole window and saw the Stalfos and the Moblin leave the building through the main entrance. The skeletal slave climbed its master's back (an oddity that barely managed to raise her eyebrows) and they vanished behind one of the main building's auxiliary structures, presumably on their way back to Hyrule.

_And with that, I hope that our part in this drama is over._


	30. Point of no Return

**Chapter 30: Point of no Return**

The sky was overcast with thick, dark clouds that blocked out the rays of the afternoon sun and turned Hyrule Field into a cold and grey scenery that perfectly mirrored Narala's current disposition. She had lost her home, her people and her standing, and was now being led to the slaughter at the hands of the mad prince of Hyrule, protected only by a fool who would naively champion honour and truth in the face of ambition and greed. She had 'agreed' to Thallius' plan only in order to prevent the brave young Hylian who had saved her from throwing away his own life in the defence of a queen who was already dead, but she had very little hope that the general would be able to protect her against his master. Fearful and frustrated, she looked at the back of her hand and cursed the golden mark that was the cause for everything that had gone so terribly wrong in the past few days.

_'Chosen by destiny' indeed. If only destiny would have asked me beforehand, I would have politely declined. Kokron, too, I bet, if he had known what awaited him._

Narala's misery of mind was evenly matched by that of her body: Her formerly smooth, azure skin had been ravaged by the chemical agent of that accursed Sheikah, and only through the generous application of a cooling salve by a Hylian aidman had the pain become bearable. Her self-inflicted scratch-wounds had been bandaged, and she had been given a cloak to protect her against the weather, all at Thallius' orders. The chivalrous knight had even ceded his horse to her, all so that she could be more comfortable as she came closer and closer to her doom. A small part of her was curious and wondered what kind of man Prince Darion would prove to be when she finally met him in person – an imperious, arrogant tyrant who led by strength, or perhaps a cowardly, meek bureaucrat hiding behind the spears of his army?

_He has the reputation of a fearsome fighter, but reputations can be manufactured. On the other hand, he received the Triforce of Power, so he's probably a believer in power above all else. It makes you want to re-think the hereditary system, if it allows a person like this to become king._

Thinking of thrones and successions inevitably led Narala's thoughts to her daughter, hidden away in the safety of the Water Temple, who by now must have learned of her mother's capture. The Zora Queen had spent the better part of the journey to Keeptown steeling herself against the realization that she would probably never see Nari again. Of course that was a selfish fear, since her daughter would lose so much more: Not just her only remaining parent, but also anything resembling a normal, carefree childhood. She would be forced to become queen at an outrageously young age, with the shadow of her mother's failure cast over her reign. The mental image of Nari sitting lost on the oversized throne, wondering why everybody was calling her 'queen' now and repeatedly asking when her mother would come back made Narala want to cry, even though she was surrounded by a thousand marching enemy soldiers – after all, did she really have any dignity left to lose?

_But I can't give up yet. I didn't want to cling to hope because I thought it was irrational and foolish, not befitting a queen. But now I must indulge in foolishness, if only for Nari's sake. I must hope for the best._

"We're almost there," Narala heard Thallius' voice close by, and looked up. Since coming into contact with the poisoned water at Zora's Fountain, her eyesight had been weakened; whether temporarily or permanently, she could not say. But even so, she could see the large and imposing, though inelegant structure at the horizon, surrounded by countless small dots that must be the houses of Keeptown. She could not discern any details yet, but she would soon be confronted not only with Darion, but also with the destruction that had been wrought on her orders.

_And in the end, it didn't even make a difference, because the Hylians were too fast. I've burdened my conscience for nothing._

_Perhaps I'll be recognized and lynched by the people before we even make it to the Keep. And wouldn't that be ironic. Of course the Triforce piece would still reach Darion, so it wouldn't change anything._

_I really have to stop thinking about my death. That train of thought can only lead to bad places._

"Where is Link?" she asked Thallius, if only to take her mind of her morbid thoughts. "He was with your knights yesterday, but I don't see him anywhere today." The mounted knights who guarded her were at the centre of the marching army, surrounded on all sides by a thousand foot soldiers forming a rough square around them. She had looked for him several times on this second day of the journey, but had not seen him anywhere.

"Link? He's somewhere near the forefront, with the Sheikah contingent." The general shook his head apologetically. "He tried to escape last night, but was surprised by a Sheikah patrol. He nearly killed one of them before he was overwhelmed."

"How is he?" Narala asked, fearing the worst for the young Hylian who had already risked his life once in order to buy her a reprieve from death.

"Oh, he's fine, just a little bruised. He stole a horse and could have left unnoticed, but returned from a different direction. To get you, presumably." Thallius sighed. "But of course there were more patrols near where we kept you, and so he got caught again."

"I... I didn't even realize..."

"You were sound asleep. Gods know your body needed it."

_How could he be so irrational? There was no way he could have saved me! He should have saved himself._ And now he was a prisoner not of Thallius' knights, but of the Sheikah.

"They'll mistreat him!" she protested. "How could you let them keep him?"

"Well, he embarrassed us pretty good, for one thing. Shaz told me 'I couldn't keep him secured', and his men would take care of him. He's walking in shackles now, but he's fine, I promise you. General Shaz isn't a man who would mistreat a prisoner."

"Oh, really. I recall that he was dead set on killing me, and that you had difficulties talking him out of it."

"That was different. It was because of the prince's orders. Or what he thought were the prince's orders."

"You still cling to the idea that the Sheikah who conveyed those orders were lying?" Narala tried hard not to sound mocking; after all, alienating Thallius would do her no good at all. "Even if that's true, what does that tell you about the Sheikahs' trustworthiness?"

"Not all members of a race are the same, Queen Narala. I shouldn't have to tell you that."

_Hmpf, he's got me there. That's something I usually say to people._

"But you'll see Link soon, anyway," he continued, "since you insisted that we bring him along to Prince Darion."

"He can confirm some of the things I have to say, and he has tales of his own to tell. Don't disregard him just because you consider him a traitor."

"Oh, he's not a traitor," Thallius said. "At least not the common type who deserts because he's afraid to die. Link is fighting for what he believes in, and I respect that. I just happen to think he's in the wrong."

"What if it turns out you're in the wrong, general?"

"Then I think some apologies are due... and not just to him." His expression hardened again. "But we will hear the prince speak in his defence first."

Narala bit back a sarcastic remark about how everybody must be out to frame poor innocent Darion and merely shrugged. It would be unwise to antagonize Thallius, she told herself again, and did not force the issue.

"Since we're approaching town, the main army will stop any moment and await Prince Darion's further orders," Thallius explained. "I asked Shaz to have Link ready then."

The Knight Commander had just stopped speaking when a loud voice from somewhere in front of them ordered the entire army to stop. The order was passed on to the ranks behind by shouting, and after a few seconds delay, the procession of soldiers had come to a halt.

"Talk about stopping any moment," the general joked and seized the reins of Narala's horse. "The Sheikah Elites are forming the vanguard, and that's where we're headed. Link must be somewhere there." With his loud, commanding voice, the general parted the sea of men in front of them and led her horse through the soldiers toward the forefront. Narala could hear agitated whispering when the men saw her, often mixed with curses and maledictions directed at her.

_They know that parts of Keeptown were burnt down_, she realized,_ but they don't know yet whether their friends and families are among the victims or not, so they all assume the worst._

Narala overheard several remarks about how she 'should be dealt with' here and now, but discipline was strong enough to prevent an outright lynching; the fact that one of the three generals was with her probably helped, too. Nonetheless, she was glad when they reached the army's vanguard, although she could still feel the hateful gazes of a thousand soldiers on her back. She would be closely watched indeed until she was out of sight.

"There's Lohgrimm," Thallius said and pointed at a single bald Hylian talking to an older Sheikah warrior. "And Shaz, too," he added without enthusiasm.

"The one who wanted me dead immediately?"

"Yes. But I somehow convinced Lohgrimm to trust me on this, and so we overruled him."

"You're in a precarious position because of me, aren't you, General Thallius?"

"Hey, don't worry about me. Worry about yourself." Thallius slapped his forehead and grimaced at Narala. "I'm sorry. That was an inconsiderate thing to say."

"It'll take more than that to hurt my feelings, general," the Zora Queen replied dryly.

Relieved that his gaffe had not upset her, Thallius led Narala's horse forward and joined his two peers, who greeted him with looks of uneasy anticipation and barely concealed disdain, respectively.

"There you are, Thallius," General Lohgrimm said. "And you brought the queen, too. So you really want to go through with that plan of yours?"

"There are some questions the prince has to answer," Thallius replied. "The truth behind this war may not be as clear-cut as we believed."

"I already told you what I think of your idea and that it's borderline treasonous," Shaz said icily. "I can only hope that you're right, Thallius. For your sake,"

"I hope that I'm wrong," the Knight Commander replied. "For all our sakes."

"Nicely spoken," Lohgrimm commended his friend. "I hope you find the right words with the prince, too."

_I very much doubt that this matter will be settled with nice words_, Narala thought, then noticed the absence of somebody who should be here. She leaned down to the side and whispered toward Thallius: "Link isn't here."

"Oh, yes." Her captor addressed Shaz. "Do you remember my request, General Shaz?"

"What, the traitor?" the Sheikah commander spat. "Yes, he's being brought right now. Not that I have a clue what you want with him."

"I need not remind you that he falls under my jurisdiction," Lohgrimm spoke to Thallius. "Once this conversation of yours is over, I'd like to have him back. I haven't had a nice court-martial in decades."

"When you hold that court-martial, invite me as a witness," Thallius replied uneasily. "I have a thing or two to say in his favour."

"I shall. Ah, speak of the devil."

Narala turned around and saw Link being led from the army's main body toward their small group, his hands bound with iron shackles and surrounded by no less than five Sheikah warriors. A weary smile came over his face when he saw her still alive, and she nodded in acknowledgement. She wanted to talk to him, too, but this was not the time nor place.

"To make sure that General Lohgrimm gets him back, my men will accompany you and keep their eyes on him," Shaz said in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "We wouldn't want him to escape again, would we?" Thallius let out a brief growl, but voiced no protest. Given the precarious balance between the three Generals, one half-convinced and one openly distrusting, he was not in a position to refuse Shaz' request.

_An honour guard of Sheikah watching our every move. How encouraging._

"Generals," one of the men guarding Link said and pointed his hand in the direction of the town. "Look, over there!"

Narala turned her head with everybody else and saw two riders fast approaching from Keeptown. The three generals briefly conferred with each other and Thallius decided to wait until the riders arrived. As they came closer and closer, Narala became anxious, unable to shake the feeling that whatever news they brought would be very bad for her indeed.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lohgrimm suddenly exclaimed when the riders had come close enough to tell them apart "I think it's his majesty himself."

Narala gasped, fearful that the prince had come to finish her in person. Her heart started racing, but she forced herself to remain as calm as she could be.

_This may work in my favour. Even Darion can't do anything too rash in the presence of his generals._

"Let's meet them halfway," Thallius said, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of relaying Narala's and Link's accusations against his prince in front of his own army. "We should at least get out of earshot."

"You do that, if you want to," Shaz replied. "I'll have nothing to do with this farce. Come on, Lohgrimm, let's keep our distance. This was his idea, after all."

"All right," the army commander said. "Good luck, Thallius," he told his friend. "Don't do anything you might regret."

"And keep your eyes on that one," Shaz addressed the five Sheikah Elites and pointed at Link. "If he tries to escape, or so much as twitches in the direction of his majesty, kill him." With that, the two generals rejoined the waiting army. When Narala gazed after them, she saw that the marching formation had given way to an unordered throng of largely regular soldiers as well as a few Sheikah and knights, all of whom eagerly tried to get a good look at their prince who was coming to greet them.

_And hoping for my blood to be spilled, no doubt. I hope they'll be disappointed._

"Let's go," Thallius said and led her horse toward the approaching riders who had only now begun to slow down; Link and his guards followed to their left. When the two groups met, they were about thirty yards away from the army, and at least two miles away from the outskirts of Keeptown, Narala estimated. Thallius asked her to dismount, and she hesitatingly did so, keeping the hood of her cloak up to delay the moment Darion would recognize her. The two riders did not dismount, at least not immediately, and she inspected them with brief glances.

The one in the lead was Prince Darion, no doubt about it: his youthful face bearing a hard expression, the silver circlet that he wore on his brow in lieu of a cumbersome crown, and the red-and-white clothing made from finest fabrics all identified him as such. The scabbard fastened to his belt made Narala uneasy, but as long as Darion's gaze remained centred on General Thallius, she was in no immediate danger..

The second rider was smaller than the first and wore a grey cloak, but with her hood down. Narala was surprised – pleasantly so? – when she recognized her as a friend of hers: Arnu, one of the king's Seven Sages and, in spite of recent misgivings between her and the queen, a voice of reason. Her presence served to alleviate Narala's fears a little, although she had to count on significant resentment even from her because of the blaze her soldiers had set. The sage's gaze wandered from Link over Thallius to the queen, and she gave her a courteous nod, which was as much as could be hoped for. However, she did not alert Darion to her identity, but remained a silent observer, and Narala was grateful for that.

"General Thallius," Darion greeted his servant with a cheerful voice, "I'm glad to see you and your men returned. I've been eagerly awaiting your arrival and departed the second I received word of your sighting." He waved a hand at the Sheikah sage next to him. "Arnu here was with me when the news reached me, and insisted she come along. Frankly, I'm surprised she could keep up with me."

"I'm just full of surprises," the old woman said sourly.

"Greetings, your highness," Thallius said and bowed. "I am happy to report a decisive victory over the Zora."

_Aren't you avoiding the most important point here – what happened to me?_

"I expected no less from you and the other generals – where are they, anyway?" Darion looked at Link, raised an eyebrow, and then at Narala, who lowered her head and pulled her hood closer. "And who are these people?"

_He doesn't recognize Link? Didn't he say they were 'sort of' friends?_

_Or maybe he just doesn't care for that right now. He has different priorities, after all._

Thallius hesitated to answer, still struggling with how to best relay the accusations of falsehoods and atrocities to his prince, but Darion was not a man to allow for such indecision. "We can talk about that later, Thallius. First things first, if you know what I mean. I assume you have it?"

_And here we go._

"Have what?" Thallius asked, genuinely confused.

"The Triforce of Wisdom," Darion said indignantly. "You know, the small shiny triangle that popped out of Narala's body?" The prince frowned. "You did get my updated orders, did you not?"

Even though Narala knew exactly what Darion's ambitions were, the casual way in which he talked about her death chilled her to the bone, and it was only the utter futility of it that prevented her from running away. All she could do was make a step back and half-hide behind Thallius' broad back.

"So it was true," the general said flatly. "Those orders really came from you."

"What is he talking about?" Arnu interjected. "And what do you mean by 'popped out of Narala's body'?"

_She has no idea, does she? This would all be so very interesting to watch, if it wasn't my life on the line here._

Laughter erupted somewhere to Narala's left, only to be immediately silenced with a muffled bash. "Hey, I didn't even do anything," Link protested against the guard who had knocked him in the head, "I just laughed!"

"What's it with you anyway, Link?" Darion asked. "Why are you in chains, and why this ridiculous get-up? Don't tell me you brought the second piece, too?" He grinned. "Why, I would knight you on the spot!"

"Link, leave the talking to me," Thallius said between his teeth, but the young Hylian did not listen.

"I overestimated you, Darion," Link said with supreme cockiness. "I thought you were going to fool everybody with a friendly facade and a regretful speech about how things tend to go out of control during war and that sometimes, there's just 'no other way'. But you're no puppet master. You're not even trying to keep appearances! Or is it because you're plan is already so far along that you just don't care anymore? Don't count your chickens before they are hatched, Darion, because I know that there's at least one vital _piece_ that you're missing, if you catch my drift."

_I think I get what he's trying to do_, Narala thought._ He wants to be the one to accuse Darion so I don't even have to reveal myself. He's still trying to protect me, even if it means drawing Darion's ire._

Darion hesitated for several seconds, focusing not on Link but simply staring into the air, as though he had seen something interesting nobody else could see, or was hearing something nobody else could hear. Then he waved dismissively in Link's direction and said "Perhaps it is better that you are in chains. You're speaking nonsense. You might even hurt yourself. I think you cracked under the pressure of war. Regrettable, but it happens." He looked at Thallius again. "Now I want an answer, Thallius. Do you have the Triforce piece, yes or no?"

"No, I want an answer," Arnu said and brought her horse head-to-head with Darion's. "Do you mean to say that Narala had one of the Triforce pieces? And that you ordered her killed because of that?" She glared at her prince with a probing intensity that Narala knew well – she had occasionally been subjected to it. "I deserve an answer!"

"Tell me, Arnu – why are you even here?" Darion asked without truly meeting her gaze. "I don't recall asking for your assistance, but since you just had to impose yourself on me, at least have the decency to watch in silence." Arnu was momentarily struck speechless by his words, and Thallius used the opportunity to gather his courage and finally speak up.

"We have accosted Queen Narala, your highness," he said firmly. "However, I insisted that she not be slain. She told me many frightful things, and though I did not believe her at that time, I now fear that all of it was true."

"You have her here, with you?" Darion asked. "Well, if that's the case, I can overlook your little confusion about my orders. Just bring her here. Now."

"So you can do what? Kill her?" Arnu had regained her speech, and was determined to put it to good use. "That would be unprecedented, not to mention unconscionable! What's wrong with you, Darion?"

"That's _Prince_ Darion to you, and now shut up! I don't recall asking you for policy advise."

Darion's rapid loss of composure in front of his subordinates gave Narala new hope that either of them would be moved to take action against him. Even the Sheikah warriors restraining Link were talking amongst each other with hushed, but agitated voices. _Perhaps my hope wasn't so foolish after all._

"I have no need to engage in childish bickering with you, Darion," Arnu replied coldly. "Rest assured that this deception will have consequences. Maybe you think you are accountable to no one, but you're wrong."

"That's funny, Arnu," Darion retorted. "Because I am accountable – to the people! And I'm pretty damn sure I'm fulfilling the people's wish to see the person dead who burned a quarter of their town to ashes!"

"But that's just a convenient pretext, isn't it?" Perhaps Narala was imagining it, but Thallius' voice sounded a bit more on edge than the last time he had spoken. "You wanted that damn Triforce thing from her, didn't you?"

"Because she stole it from me!" Darion was slowly becoming livid, stiffening in the saddle and raising his voice. "She stole my property and hid it in her body, and I shall have it back!"

"I think it's about time you disclosed all the facts about this Triforce," Thallius said. "What it is, what you intend to do with it, and how you 'displaced' its pieces."

"I am the rightful ruler of this realm, and the Triforce belongs to me!" Darion yelled at him. "That is all you have to know!"

_Something's wrong with him. He's not behaving even remotely rationally. It's like Link said – he's not even trying anymore. It's as though something or someone is egging him on._

"I've just about had enough of you, Thallius! You and that impudent boy and that shady figure behind you... oh." A dangerous smile came over him. "I see it now. So you brought her after all. How considerate."

_This isn't good._ Narala's body began to tremble. _Not good at all._ She turned around and looked behind her, but the army was still there, watching the scene with great interest, though probably little understanding. _I have to get away. But how? And where to?_

Perhaps she had accidentally touched Thallius, or perhaps the general simply felt her tension, for he turned his head, put his left hand on hers and said: "Stay calm. Stay behind me. I'll keep you safe."

_I'd love to keep myself safe on my own power, you know_, Narala thought, but the simple reality was that Darion had a sword, and she did not, and she had never be one to question the supremacy of reality. Still, being so utterly powerless and dependant irked her to no end.

"Step aside, Thallius," Darion said and drew his sword from its scabbard. "I will mete out punishment for-"

"That's enough!" Arnu shouted and pointed her arm at Darion. Blue lighting traveled from her fingertips to Darion's right hand, and with a surprised shriek, the prince let his sword drop to the ground next to his horse. Thallius lunged forward and quickly picked it up, but Darion did not even notice him: He glared at the Sheikah woman and yelled at the top of his lungs "Who do you think you are?" Half-jumping, half-gliding out of his saddle, he leapt toward her and struck her square in the face with his right fist, sending her sagging off her horse and head-first to the ground, where she lay still. Narala gasped, but Thallius' strong grip prevented her from rushing to her friend's aid and right into Darion's arms. She frantically looked over her shoulder, hoping to see some kind of reaction from the watching army behind her. Although there were many agitated conversations, not least of all one between generals Lohgrimm and Shaz, Arnu's fate was not spurring anybody into action.

The prince, too, landed on the ground, but on his feet, prevented from falling by Arnu's horse, which thanked him by darting off and galloping away in panic. He only now realized what had happened to his sword, and without even deigning to look at the unconscious sage he planted himself in front of his general and smiled at him.

"My dear Thallius," he said in a conversational tone. "What am I to do with you, hm?"

"Talk to me, Darion!" the knight pleaded with his prince. "What happened to you? Was it your father's death? Or-"

"I will tolerate no debates about my state of mind," Darion cut him off. "Give me back my sword and step out of my way, or I'll try you for treason. This is my final warning."

Narala dreaded for a second that the general would give in, but her fears were unfounded: He slipped Darion's sword under his belt and pulled his own, larger blade from it. "Then treason it shall be," he announced calmly and pointed his sword at the prince. "I am a Knight of Hyrule. I must stand my ground against injustice and dishonour."

_Yes! This is it! Your reign is over, Darion!_

"So you show your true colours, Thallius," Darion said, wholly unimpressed. "You're a pawn of the Zora and their murderous queen. What a pity." His head turned toward the Sheikah warriors who had stopped talking among each other and whose red eyes were now resting on their prince. "Subdue him," he commanded, and they heeded his call: While two of them kept restraining the shackled Link, the others seized Thallius from behind, clasping both of his arms and his neck with their arms. The general roared like a cornered bear and tried to strike out at them with his sword. When they broke his wrist and he had to drop his weapon, he kicked at them with his plated boots. When they cut his hamstrings with their daggers through the slits between the metal plates, he dropped to his knees and threw himself on his back to crush them under the weight of his armour. Only when they put their boots on his neck and shackled his hands on his back did he finally lie still. Only then did Narala realize that her last hope for salvation had been taken from her.

_No. I won't give up. I have to live – for Nari and my people!_

The Sheikah were busy restraining Thallius and Link, both of whom were cursing and railing against the prince, and Darion himself was standing in front of his disgraced general, shaking his head in fake regret.

For this one moment, nobody noticed the Zora Queen standing right next to them.

For this one moment, nobody noticed that Thallius' sword had landed right in front of her.

_Don't think! Do it!_

Narala picked up the heavy sword and pointed it toward Darion. Holding back a scream that would have given her away, she rushed the prince and stabbed him in the side with all the physical strength she could muster. There was more resistance than she had anticipated, but in the end, she felt the tip of the sword pass through soft flesh before it stopped moving, stuck somewhere. Elated by hearing Darion scream in surprise and pain, she yanked out the sword and made another thrust, but this time, fortune was no longer with her: The prince made a quick step backwards, and Narala, carried forward by her own momentum, lost her balance and fell face down to the ground. A heavy boot pressing against the back of her neck put an end to her struggle to get up. She had let go of the sword, too, and it was now out of her reach. It was all over.

"Stay where you are!" Darion's voice boomed above her head. "I don't need the help of an army to fight a woman!"

_The army wanted to help him? They peacefully watched him strike down two of his loyal subordinates, and now they try and rush to _his_ aid? These soldiers are beyond worthless._

The pressure against Narala's neck ceased momentarily, and two strong hands seized her body and turned her on her back. Before she could struggle, the boot came down again and was now pressing against her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her hands were free to pull and tear at it, but to no avail. At least now she could look her malefactor in the eyes.

"Nice try," Darion said and lifted up his shirt, revealing a dull grey fleece made from a thousand iron links. He was wearing mail armour beneath his clothing, and though she had managed to pierce that armour, the wound Narala had struck was only an inch wide, and probably not much deeper. Darion saw her disappointment and laughed.

"Did you know that it was your little surprise raid that taught me the lesson to wear armour day in, day out? So in a way, you foiled your own attack. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Damn you, Darion!" Narala spat. "Hell holds no anguish fit for your crimes."

"Ah, yes! Curses!" Darion laughed. "The last refuge of the impotent. I shall consider them your surrender." He extended his arm and somebody handed him his sword back. He seized the hilt with both hands and pointed it at Narala. "Now I must kindly ask you to relinquish my property. In other words, die."

Narala clenched her teeth in anticipation and resolved not to show weakness by screaming. When the prince thrust his sword down and through her chest, she drew in a hissing breath but other than that remained silent. After all, she was still a queen, and if she had to die, she would die with dignity. Dignity, and unbroken hostility toward the man who had killed her. The pain in her chest was terrible, and she channeled it all into her hatred toward Darion.

"You will undo yourself," she coughed. "You flaunt your madness openly, yet you expect people to follow you? What a fool you are."

"Hm, you're still alive?" Darion seemed surprised. "Did I miss? Or do you fishfolk have your heart in a different place?"

"You will lose everything and everyone you hold dear, and you'll have nobody to blame for it but yourself."

"Yes, very profound." Darion sounded slightly annoyed, as if a bee was buzzing in front of his ear, and waved his hand. "Please hurry up and die."

"In the end, you will be all alone. A Prince without a people. And it will happen sooner than you could possibly imagine."

"Just – shut – up!" Darion barked and stabbed Narala a second time. The Zora Queen spat a gush of blood, and was almost grateful for it, since it drowned out any scream her lips might loose. Strangely enough, the pain seemed to lessen instead of getting worse, but perhaps that was just her imagination. Her lungs still worked, though every breath she drew was laborious and made her cough up more blood. When she tried to speak again, she found that she had lost her voice. Her eyesight faded rapidly, and although Darion's face was the last thing she saw before everything vanished, there was something comforting about it. Perhaps the terrifying truth of her last words was already corroding the walls of denial that the prince had thrown up around his heart. Perhaps he realized on some level that for every quantum of misery he sowed now, he would soon reap tenfold the amount of despair. The look of abject horror in his eyes was quite satisfying.

_My, how vengeful I've become. And I even... went down fighting. I bet Kokron would be proud of me._

Thinking of the brave Goron was a splendid way to spend her final moments, but there was somebody else in her mind... somebody who deserved her share of these moments even more.

_Nari, my daughter... I'm so sorry. I should have promised to come back. At least then, you could be angry at me for breaking my promise, instead of grieving for me._

_I guess I wasn't so wise after all..._

Although she had never been one for modesty, or perhaps because of it, Narala saw it fit to end her life on such a self-depreciating note, and breathed her last.

* * *

Link had run out of obscenities to hurl at Darion when the prince pulled his bloodied sword out of Narala's dead body. The edge of the short dagger pressed against his throat by one of the Sheikah kept him frozen in place, and now that he had no more threats or insults to throw at Darion, all he could do was watch in terror as the corpse of the Zora Queen briefly turned gold and the Triforce piece appeared in the air above it, just as it had with the Goron warrior on Death Mountain. Darion's own expression of horror, evoked by Narala's last words, gave way to a triumphant smile, and he greedily seized the Triforce piece

"Soon... very soon, I will have it all," he said to himself. "Just a little longer..."

At least Darion's words confirmed to Link that he had not regained the second piece yet, although he was clearly making an effort in that regard. Not for the first time, he wondered how safe it was with the two Gerudo thieves.

"Just look at yourself, Darion," Thallius' broken voice sounded next to Link, where the general was still being subdued by three Sheikah. "You're a sad excuse for a prince, let alone a king. You are like a brigand who killed a woman for her golden tooth."

"Former General Thallius," Darion turned his attention to the subdued knight after tucking the golden triangle away in a shirt pocket. "I hereby charge you with treason against your prince and country. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

"My actions speak for themselves," Thallius said. "But I hope that when the time comes, somebody will speak in _your_ defence. You're going to need it much more than I."

"Magnificent. That speeds up the proceedings." Darion raised the sword that had killed Narala and announced: "For the crime of high treason, I hereby sentence you to death."

"Your highness, wait!"

"Stay your hand!"

Startled by the desperate voices coming from somewhere nearby, Link turned his head as far to the right as he could without cutting his own throat against the Sheikah dagger and saw two men running toward the small group from the main army. He recognized them as Generals Lohgrimm and Shaz, who must have finally decided to interfere with the charade their prince was staging. But Link saw that they were too far away to take action, and that none of the words they shouted would make a difference.

"Link!" Thallius' eyes met his. "You were right." His voice was weighed down with remorse, and Link wanted to reply that he should not blame himself, that it was all Darion's fault, but it was too late: The prince brought down his sword in a swift cutting movement, and with a sound not dissimilar to that of lumber being chopped, severed the general's head from his shoulders. Link felt that futile screams of "Noo!" would be doing the man a disservice and silently added the Knight Commander's death to the list of crimes Darion would have to answer for. Even the Sheikah Elites who had crippled and subdued Thallius winced in surprise when the sword came down, and looked at their prince with growing unease. The dagger against Link's throat remained, though, and as he shed a silent tear for the general who had found his courage too late, he realized that he, too, would be killed as soon as Darion remembered that he was still here.

_But perhaps those two are fast enough to save at least me._

Lohgrimm and Shaz were now close enough for Link to see the expressions on their faces: Lohgrimm was both furious and mortified, while Shaz seemed more confused than angry as he followed his colleague. The two generals were not the only ones to react to the execution of Thallius: The soldiers watching from a short distance, who had greeted the murder of the hated Zora Queen with cheers and jubilation, were now engaging in animated debates among each other, and loud murmur erupted, punctuated by occasional angry shouts. Several of Thallius' knights had stepped out of the main crowd, but none of them took the initiative.

_At least they finally seem to get it now._

"This is an outrage!" Lohgrimm yelled when he came to a halt right in front of Darion. His bald head was red with rage and adorned with blue, protruding veins on his temples. He glanced at Thallius' head and immediately looked away again, clenching his fists. "Do you realize what you just did?"

"I executed a traitor," Darion replied calmly, but Link noticed that he held his bloodied sword at the ready. "He sided with the Zora against his lord. I did what I had to do."

"I don't give a damn what you think you had to do," Lohgrimm shouted. "A general accused of treason is entitled to a hearing before the Royal Council! You do not have the authority to play both judge and executioner!"

Link noticed that, while the general of the army was lambasting the prince, the three Sheikah who had been restraining Thallius were exchanging nervous glances with each other and looked to their own commander for guidance. But General Shaz was clearly irresolute and followed the exchange between his colleague and his prince with an open mouth, but nothing to say.

"You don't understand," Darion told Lohgrimm. "We're standing at a critical juncture in history! Soon, Hyrule will enjoy everlasting peace and prosperity. Your old laws and traditions don't apply any longer!"

"It is you who doesn't understand, Darion," Lohgrimm replied grimly, foregoing any title or honorific. "And it is your authority that doesn't apply any longer. You have overstepped your boundaries. Now you are the one who will be put to trial."

"Heh. Hah. Har." Darion laughed stupidly. "You're not yourself, Lohgrimm, so I shall overlook these foolish words. I can understand that your friend's sad fate has shaken you, and that you now fear for your own safety. But as long as you remain loyal to me, you have nothing to be afraid of."

"Then I must be very afraid of you," the bald general said while remaining as motionless as rock "I stand by my words. Surrender yourself, and you may retain your life, though your crown be lost."

_Aren't you going to draw your sword already?_ Link wanted to shout, but feared the risk of getting his throat slit. _He's going to kill you, too!_

"So you would rather join him on the ground, eh? What a waste." Darion turned to the three Sheikah warriors. "Seize him."

"You will do no such thing!" Shaz' sudden words froze his men in their tracks and had them cast confused glances toward their general and their prince, torn in their loyalties. Link's captors, too, seemed unsure of whom to follow, but held the dagger that immobilized him firmly against his throat.

_You certainly took your sweet time choosing sides, Shaz._

"You, too?" Darion's voice grew tense. "Fine, cast away your lives, both of you. Very soon, I'll not be needing the service of generals anymore, so it is fitting that all three of you fall here. You," he addressed the Sheikah again, "seize both of them! And ignore any orders they give you."

Link did not envy the Sheikah soldiers as they wordlessly looked at each other through their masks, and could imagine that they were working up a sweat now. They had a grave choice to make – one he had made days ago – and the situation that had come to a head here certainly did not make it easier. Remembering that the Sheikah he had met so far had been quite unburdened by such a thing as a conscience, he prepared himself for the worst.

Perhaps it was due to a lack of courage, or simply because the scene playing out in front of them was beyond the scope of their imagination, but the Sheikah could not bring themselves to cast in their lot with either side. But in the eyes of Darion, that, too, meant making a choice.

"If you're not with me, you're with them," the prince declared with unmistakable finality. "The famed 'fealty to the royal family' doesn't amount to much when the going gets tough, eh? Fine." His lips parted in a wicked smile. "I don't need any of you. I have a thousand loyal soldiers right there." He put one hand to his mouth and shouted. "Soldiers of Hyrule! Your prince is surrounded by traitors! Come to my aid at once!"

"Stay where you are!" Lohgrimm turned around and tried to out-shout Darion. "I am your commander!"

"Don't turn your back on him!" Link cried out, incredulous how the general could be so careless. Darion, on the other hand, wasted no time with disbelief: With a hateful grimace, he lunged toward Lohgrimm and thrust his sword at his back. The blade passed through his body and protruded out of his waist, and the general sank to his knees roaring in pain. Shaz and his men gasped, and Darion quickly pulled out the sword again and made a few steps back, shooting quick, calculating glances at the Sheikah around him.

_This is getting ridiculous! Are they all going to stand there and let him kill them one at a time?_

"All of you! Disarm the prince! That's an order!" Shaz yelled while kneeling down next to Lohgrimm, and to Link's great relief, his men finally found in in themselves to obey. Drawing their blades, they spread out in an attempt to surround Darion, and Link was finally free to move again. Without a second's hesitation, he dashed to Thallius' headless body and picked his sword that was still fastened to the dead general's plate belt, while trying not to get a closer look at the actual corpse.

_I want a piece of you, Darion_, he thought and rose to join the Sheikah, who had surrounded the prince. He was almost frothing at the mouth now, calling them filthy traitors and worse. But they did not attack him yet, possibly because of the difficulty of seizing him alive. Link did not share their scruples and was about to attack him head-on, when the sound of a multitude of men shouting and running behind him demanded his attention. He turned around, and saw that the army had finally had enough, and was not going to take the murder of their supreme commander lying down. At least a hundred men came running toward them, their weapons drawn and ready, screaming curses and insults at the man for whom they had gone to war, and who had thanked them by murdering two of their generals.

_They weren't batting an eye when he killed Narala_, Link thought, not particularly thrilled by this belated intervention. Darion, too, was visibly displeased with this turn of events, though for completely different reasons.

"Traitors! All of you, traitors!" he yelled when he saw his own soldiers taking arms against him. "But I don't need you! Any of you!" With a shrill shriek, he turned around and charged the Sheikah coming up to him from behind, wounding him and throwing him to the ground. Link gave pursuit immediately, as did the other Sheikahs, but the prince dashed toward the horse he had arrived on, almost tripping over Arnu's motionless body still lying close to it. He climbed on the stirrup and into the saddle and spurred the horse forward toward the advancing army, and Link had to jump out of his way, or he would have been run over.

_He's lost it completely_, he thought as he got back to his feet._ Good._

But Link's satisfaction evaporated quickly when he realized that Darion was not planning a suicidal attack against his own soldiers. Instead, he steered his horse around in a wide curve, coming close to the advancing men, and then galloped into the opposite direction, back toward Keeptown. A necessary, if daring, manoeuvre, Link realized, because the horse could not have turned around fast enough while standing, not without his pursuers reaching him first.

"I did what I had to do!" Turning around in the saddle, Darion shouted at no one in particular as he made his escape. His voice had gone beyond shrill and bore a lunatic edge. "And you will yet thank me on your knees for it!"

_I can't believe it. He's really getting away, after everything he's done!_

The soldiers arrived in force, surrounding Link and the Sheikahs, but thankfully had no intention to arrest him. Some tried to make themselves useful, calling for healers to attend Arnu and Lohgrimm, although the general was probably beyond saving. Most of the men, however, were looking for someone to explain things to them, and even Link, who technically was still a deserter, found himself barraged with questions about what had happened, especially in regards to Prince Darion. Of course, given the amounts of noise and confusion, Link would not have been able to answer them even if he had tried.

"Order! Order!" somebody barked. It was General Shaz, who by now seemed to have realized that he was the one in charge. "Be silent and listen to me! Except for those of you who are actually doing something useful." Several knights on horseback arrived from the main army, ready to pursue Darion, but Shaz told them to leave it be. "He's too far away now," he said, "and has almost reached town."

"What's with the prince?"

"Why did he do that?"

"Silence! We do not know the reason, but the fact of the matter is that Prince Darion is... sick of mind, at the very least."

"Oh, I can tell you the reason all right," Link interjected.

"Silence, I said! Wait, it's you..." Shaz only now seemed to notice that Link was still there, and alive to boot. "So, you... uh... that is..."

"Is it that hard to say?" Link asked. "I was right all along." Everybody's attention was now on him, which did not exactly put him at ease, but with Narala and Thallius dead, he was probably the only one who knew the reason for Darion's madness. "How much did Thallius tell you?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Only that there was something amiss with the prince, or the people around him, and that the Zora Queen claimed to know the reason for it," Shaz replied uneasily.

"Nothing about the Triforce?"

"No. But from what I gathered, it lies at the heart of this conflict?"

"Yes. Actually, I don't know that much about it myself. But as you have seen, it actually exists, and it's supposed to house the power of the gods."

"What? That's impossible!" Shaz protested, and the soldiers around him shared his incredulity. Link wanted to snarl at them to be quiet and listen, but recognized the precariousness of his situation, and forced himself to stay calm.

"He's speaking nothing but the truth," a female voice suddenly spoke from somewhere near. "I'll vouch for that. And I can supply some answers of my own." The owner of the voice was Arnu, Link knew, and was relieved that the old sage had survived Darion's assault and her subsequent fall. She had forced her way through the throngs of soldiers surrounding Link, Shaz and Lohgrimm. "But first, let me look at him. Perhaps he's not beyond saving." She strode right past Link, and he could see that her expression was a strange mix between fury and grief.

_She was friends with Thallius_, he remembered._ Sort of, at least. And she tried to save Narala, too. _

"This was all Darion's work, I assume?" The wording of Arnu's question was casual, but her voice had a dry, choking quality to it. Link and Shaz both nodded.

"He's claimed a third victim, then," she said after a brief inspection of Lohgrimm's gaping stab wound. "Not even healing magic could save him at this point. Thankfully he's passed out, so at least his death won't be painful." Rejecting several helping hands, she rose from the ground and wiped her bloodied palms on her grey robe.

"He recognized the prince's madness, even if it was too late for him," Shaz said solemnly. "As did Thallius, who suspected it even earlier. Both of them died in-"

"Please, Shaz," Arnu cut him off. "This is hardly the time for eulogies. If Darion escaped with Narala's Triforce piece – and I'm hearing no protest, so I assume that he did – he'll be in possession of the whole thing. And, given his current mindset, that means we are in big trouble. Bigger than anybody in the whole of history. Just to put things in perspective."

"No, he doesn't have the complete Triforce yet," Link said. "The second part was stolen from him. I saw it myself."

"Stolen?" Arnu asked, then suddenly slapped her forehead. "Of course. It wasn't an heirloom of his mother's. He lied. Like he did from the beginning." She stomped on the ground with her right foot. "I don't know whom I should be more angry at: Darion for lying to me all this time, or myself for believing it."

"That's easy," Link said. "Be angry at Darion. He's the one responsible for everything." He knew little about the old sage and her relationship to the prince, but her disappointment and remorse seemed genuine, especially given her actions from before. "You are not at fault."

"I don't need to be consoled!" Arnu snapped at Link. "I'll deal with my guilt on my own time."

"Let's stay focused on what's important," Shaz stepped in. "The Triforce, remember? Prince Darion gave me special orders to ensure that its pieces were retrieved from the Gorons and the Zora, respectively, but he did not tell me of their purpose. What is their relation to this 'power of the gods' you spoke of?"

After putting a small distance between themselves and the soldiers for the sake of confidentiality, Link and Arnu hastily filled the Sheikah general in on what they knew about the Triforce, and the unimaginable damage Darion could wreak with it. They were interrupted only once when a soldier informed them that Lohgrimm had passed away, which earned him a scornful glance from the old sage who did not like being interrupted. To his credit, Shaz quickly digested the information given to him and recognized the gravity of the situation.

"So he now has two thirds of this divine power, but he won't be able to use it until he gets the last piece. Did I get that right?"

"Yes," Link replied. "The last piece is actually the second piece he got his hands on, and it was stolen during the confusion of the Zora attack. But it goes without saying that Darion is moving heaven and earth to get it back. Judging from what he said, he's optimistic to get it back 'soon', whenever that is."

"It's also possible that Darion is simply delusional," Arnu said, "and cannot assess the situation correctly. Wouldn't surprise me, given his current state. But we can't rely on that, naturally."

Link nodded eagerly, knowing that they had little time to lose. "Which means we have to get the other pieces back, before he kills even more people!"

"But I still don't understand why the prince would do that," Shaz said doubtfully. "Why he would hurt the people he has sworn to protect."

"It's impossible to answer that question now," Arnu said. "But just look at the damage he already did today, with nothing but a simple sword. Even if his intentions were noble in the beginning – and I really want to believe that they were – we cannot trust him for a second with the power of the gods. Getting to the bottom of his madness has to wait until we have secured the Triforce – that is, if we capture Darion alive."

"We can't make that our priority!" Link said emphatically. He knew that his words made him sound bloodthirsty and vengeful, but he had seen too many people die at Darion's hands to grant him the luxury of mercy now. "Thallius tried to reason with him, and look where it got him! Darion is not going to come peacefully, no matter what."

"Which part of 'if we capture him alive' did you not understand?" Arnu asked curtly. She seemed to have regained her composure, and her usual gruff self along with it. _Good for you_, Link thought, and chose not to press the issue. If, in the end, the decision lay with him, he would take swift and decivise action without needless debate.

"Our objective is clear, then," Shaz said. "March into town, surround the Keep and flush out Prince Darion. If the Keep's garrison defects to our side, there won't even be bloodshed."

"And if it doesn't?" Link asked.

"Then we would have a siege on our hands, naturally," the general replied. "But never fear. There's no way the Keep's guards will fight against their own brothers in arms, no matter what story they're told. But even in the event that they do, we can simply starve them inside. As long as we intercept the people retrieving the third Triforce piece, we'll have all the time in the world."

"But what if Darion isn't in the Keep?" Link asked.

"Then we'll chase him. The townsfolk can tell us in which direction he went, and I'm sure the knights will be very enthusiastic in their pursuit," Shaz replied.

"Then it's settled." Arnu looked expectantly at her fellow Sheikah. "You're the only general who's left, so the army is all yours."

"I have to talk to Lohgrimm's subordinates," Shaz said, "draw up some plans, establish a chain of command. Military matters, you know. I'll make due haste." He nodded at Arnu. "I request that you stay near me until this sordid affair is settled. When we capture the Triforce, I shall entrust it to you."

"Oh joy." The sage sighed, but nodded at Shaz. "I don't believe it can be destroyed, but I'll think of a way to hide it. But there's still the matter of the Gorons and the Zora... they have both suffered great damage at our hands, and I doubt we'll be able to satisfy them by pinning all the blame on Darion."

"These matters will have to wait," Shaz said firmly, perhaps recalling his own role in Darion's wars. "First things first."

"Agreed." Arnu nodded. "I don't envy the poor regent who'll have to clean this mess up."

"Regent?" Link asked.

"Since Prince Darion has effectively forfeited his throne, and Princess Zelda is... permanently indisposed, this leaves only Prince Kyrus, who isn't even two years old," Arnu explained. "The Royal Council will have to appoint a regent until he comes of age. But it is as Shaz said. First things first."

"Yes. And you," Shaz looked at Link, "what was your name again?"

"Link."

"Link. That's a-"

"-strange name. I know, I get that alot," Link said, recalling how he had used to wish the plague on his parents for their poor choice of first name. Recently, he had come to regret that particular wish.

"Well, Link, I want you to stay with Arnu, just in case I have further questions to ask of you."

"No problem." In fact, Link desperately wanted to be there when Darion got what was coming to him, so he had planned on tagging along, anyway. He still remembered that the Sheikah General's men had been Darion's willing henchmen, but there was no point dwelling on that now. Shaz' disappointment in the prince's actions was certainly believable.

"I'll begin the preparations, then. I'll talk you again once everything is ready." With that, the general turned on his heel and purposefully strode toward the main body of the army, barking orders as he went along.

"So, Link," Arnu said, "now that we have some time, you can bring me up to speed with the exact details of what happened while I was out. Not that I'll like any of it, but I value knowledge over ignorance in mostly every case."

"You were a friend of Thallius, weren't you?" Link asked, although there was really no point to it now.

"Yes," Arnu replied, "and of Narala, too."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I mean, of course it's not all right, but... So many people have died lately. I can't let it bother me too much. And it's not like it would bring them back."

Link remembered his parents and his friends, not even a month dead, and it surprised him not for the first time how rarely he had thought about them since then. "I know what you mean," he said.

"Oh, and tell me how exactly you got yourself into this situation," Arnu added without dwelling on the subject of grief any further. "Last time I saw you, you were a soldier. And now you're here, wearing this... kilt? Skirt? Whatever it is."

"It's a complicated story," Link replied, ignoring the comments about his clothing of choice.

"Like that's going to deter me.".

"All right then," Link said, and told Arnu his story. The two slowly paced across the grassy field as they talked, back and forth along the forefront of the army where Shaz could see them when he was ready to move out.

_And once we move out, it'll be all over for Darion_, Link thought as his story made him recall the atrocities committed on the prince's orders_. Now that he's proven to everyone, in front of his whole army, just how far gone he is, nobody will side with him. He's going down. And it's about time, too._


	31. Long Live the King!

**Chapter 31: Long Live the King!**

Darion threw the double door to the throne room shut behind him after ignoring the guards' salutations and demanding not to be disturbed. His heart was torn between anguish and fury on a scale that he had never imagined, and he needed something to vent his emotions on, so he drew his still bloodied sword and proceeded to shatter every single one of the windows that covered the entire wall opposite to the door. The coloured, stained glass retold the creation of Hyrule as passed down since the beginning of time, but Darion paid no heed to their old and useless story. Din shaping the earth and sea, Nayru imposing the laws of nature, Farore creating all living things – the prince's bloody blade carved through them all, reducing them to myriads of multi-coloured fragments that rained down on him and caused countless little cuts that he did not feel. There was nothing beyond the windows safe for a small, empty courtyard surrounded by walls, so nobody witnessed the prince's outbreak safe for the guards beyond the door, who probably heard everything, but knew better than to go against their orders and disturb their lord. And even if they had come in and seen everything, at this moment in time, Darion could not care less.

_They betrayed me. My generals, my soldiers... everybody has betrayed me!_

_I'm the prince. The one who knows best how to protect the people. That is my task, my purpose. By betraying me, they have betrayed the people, too._

Having run out of windows to shatter, Darion stomped to his throne and sat down on, laid his sword across his lap and took several deep, regular breaths, trying to control his overwhelming emotions.

_I shouldn't waste another second's thought on these traitors. After all, a king only needs an army because he isn't powerful enough to protect his people on his own. But that's going to change soon! Once I have the power of the gods, I won't have need of an army ever again. So these traitors can march right back to Zora's Domain and live with the fishmen for all I care._

_There is nothing to worry about. In the face of treason, I must remain aloof. Such outbursts are unbefitting of my position. I must relax._

_"Relax? Now?"_ Malark piped up. He had remained silent ever since Darion's confrontation with his traitorous general, and in his upheaval, the prince had forgotten all about him.

_"You would let your guard down at the very eve of your victory? Darion, relaxing is the last thing you can do now!"_

_Shut up, Malark. I grow tired of your manipulations._

_"My 'manipulations' are the least of your concerns, Darion. In spite of what you wish, I can guarantee you that this army won't just march away quietly. On the contrary, they'll be knocking on the Keep's main gate before the day is out."_

_What are you talking about? Why would they do that?_

_"Are you dense? To dispose of you, of course! Nobody ever thinks of themselves as traitors, you know. In their eyes, they'll be doing Hyrule a favour. To put it simply, after what happened just now, they think you have gone insane."_

Incensed, Darion brought his fists down on the throne's armrests. _I am not insane!_

_"You're welcome to convince them otherwise. I can even testify for you if you want. 'The voice in my head, it's saying I'm not crazy!' They'll love that, I'm sure of it." _

_Don't mock me! Tell me what I can do!_

_"All your problems will be solved once Unthok delivers the final Triforce piece. Until then, we must play for time."_

_Why don't we just use that orb of yours to bring him here?_ _It's only been two days since he left! Could he even be back this fast on his own?_

_"Moblins have great speed and stamina. For all we know, he could be arriving any minute. But if he has run into difficulties and doesn't even have the Triforce piece yet, summoning him back now would be an enormous waste of time."_

_Can't you contact him somehow?_

_"I'm afraid not."_

_You're useless._

_"You wound me."_

_But if he doesn't even have it yet then it'll be too late either way! I have no confidence that the Keep's guard will defend us against the army, so we simply have to risk it!_

Malark hesitated, and then surprised Darion by agreeing with him.

_"You're right, we should take that risk. Our situation is deteriorating quickly, and if he doesn't have it yet, we can still escape from the Keep and continue the search from somewhere else."_

The thought of abandoning his ancestral home did not sit well with Darion, but he resolved not to worry about that until they had summoned the Moblin King. He rose from the throne, re-sheathing his sword as he did, and was about to enter his private chambers where he had deposited Malark's magical orb when the doors flew open and two guardsmen came running in.

"I told you not to disturb me!" Darion barked at them and seized the hilt of his sword, fearing yet another betrayal.

"Forgive us, your highness, but you're in danger!" The two men's expression was one of concern, and since they made no move suggesting treachery, Darion chose not to attack. "What is it?" he asked curtly. _Is the army already on the move?_

"There's a Stalfos Knight in the Keep! He came running up main street and simply jumped over the walls when the gatekeepers tried to stop him! He's outside now, jumping all over the battlements and even the towers, and he's calling for you to come out. He must have come to kill you!"

"Let him try," Darion said dismissively. He had other things to worry about now than a crazed skeleton that fancied itself an assassin.

_"Oh, Darion..." _Malark sighed in his head,_ "your stupidity knows no bounds. Just who might that Stalfos be, hm?"_

_You don't mean..._

_"Unthok couldn't just waltz into Keeptown in the middle of the day, so he sent his highly acrobatic slave to deliver the Triforce piece to you. Which means we don't have to bother with the spellsphere. Come on now, hurry! Success is almost within our grasp!"_

"This is great news," Darion said and rushed past his soldiers. "I'll meet him at once!"

"Your highness, please wait!" The men followed him through the door and into the corridor. "You mustn't put yourself at risk by-"

"Just stay on your posts!" Darion bellowed without stopping. "That is an order." The soldiers obeyed, and Darion raced through the hallways of the Keep until he reached the closest exit opening into the courtyard. He found half a dozen guards assembled there, shooting angry looks up the east tower without even noticing the arrival of their prince. He followed their glances and saw a skeletal figure wearing a golden helmet standing atop the tower's battlements – without a doubt the same Stalfos whom he had seen with Unthok.

_Did he jump up there? If so, wow._

"Where's your prince?" the Stalfos shouted from above, and not for the first time, as Darion knew. "I must see him. I must obey!" His tone was pleading and desperate, just as the first time Darion had heard him talk.

"I am here!" he shouted in reply, causing the nearby soldiers to turn around and look at him in shock. "Come down here! No, wait... I'm coming up to you." He cut off the guards' protests with a sweeping gesture. "All of you, return to your posts! That Stalfos is mine!"

"But Prince Darion, what if you-"

"I can handle him! Now obey my orders!"

Grudgingly, the guards dispersed and returned to their various posts, while Darion entered the Keep's main building again and hurried toward the staircase leading up to the east tower. He would rather not have the few men who still remained loyal to him learn about the deal he had struck with Unthok and his slave, and wanted them to believe that he was going confront and fight the Stalfos.

_Maybe I'll even kill him afterwards... didn't he beg for death last time I saw him?_

_"Unthok would be angry if you did that."_

_Another excellent reason to do it_. Darion reached the bottom of the tower's spiral staircase and started climbing it, taking two or three steps with each leap._ I still can't believe I let you talk me into working with that monster._

_"He produced results, did he not?"_

_You can say that once I have the Triforce piece in my hands!_

With a morbid sense of fear, Darion checked his shirt pocket, but the piece he had taken from Narala's corpse was still there, as was the one embedded in his right hand, naturally.

_Soon, now... very soon, and I'll be able to change the world! I will become the greatest king Hyrule has ever seen! And I'll see all enemies of the people perish before me!_

Exultant with anticipation, Darion reached the top of the tower. From here, one could see miles and miles into the distance across Hyrule Field and the many villages that littered it, but Darion did not have the leisure to bother with the view now: His complete attention was focused on the animated skeleton standing in front of him. "Do you have it?" he asked without any preliminaries.

"I would ask you to kill me," the Stalfos whimpered, "but I cannot. The Moblin has commanded me to return to him alive, and so I must."

"I grow tired of your self-pity," Darion said derisively. "Do you have it?"

"Tired?" the Stalfos repeated, and his voice suddenly had a dangerous edge. "Tired, you say? Who are you to talk like this?" He came closer and closer to Darion until his yellowed skull was mere inches removed from Darion's head. "What would you say if you were raised from your grave by dark magic, and forced to attack your own countrymen? Forced to do the bidding of a foul monster, unable to control what's left of your body? Unable of even ending your suffering yourself, and reduced to begging random strangers to kill you?"

"I'll listen to your sad story later," Darion said between his teeth. "Now, I ask you for the last time: Do you have it?"

"The Moblin said you are the reigning prince of Hyrule, and the circlet you wear confirms it," the Stalfos continued to speak without answering Darion's question. "It pains me to see that King Artaxis was cursed with a son as greedy and heartless as you. Hyrule has fallen on dark times."

"Don't talk like you knew my father!" Darion shouted at the Stalfos. His patience was growing thin – now even this... this _thing_ was trying to lecture him on how depraved he was?

"But I did know him," the creature said, "and much better than you, I think. I was his friend and his general for almost twenty years – long before you were born, oh fallen prince. If he was still alive, he would-"

"Shut up!" Darion erupted. "Shut up and give me my property, or begone if you don't have it!"

"You don't know how much I'd like to cast it from this tower, if only to spite you," the Stalfos said. "But..." He presented his left hand, which he had been hiding behind his back the whole time. It was clenched to a fist, but Darion could see the golden glow emanating from between the bones of his fingers. "I cannot even command my own limbs." The fingers opened and revealed the third and final Triforce piece. "But even with all this indignity, I am not the more pathetic creature between the two of us."

But Darion was not even listening to his ranting anymore. As soon as the bone fingers opened around the Triforce piece, his own hand darted out and seized it. Although it looked metallic, it was slightly warm to his touch, just as the third piece had been.

"The look on your face... I have seen gluttons less voracious than you."

"You will not spoil my moment of triumph!" Darion yelled at the Stalfos. "Leave me in peace, before I... no, that's just what you want me to do. For your insolent words, I'll let you live in slavery for a little while longer, at least until I purge Unthok and his whole vile race of monsters from the face of the earth. Now be gone!"

"I pray that you ruin yourself with this power, before you ruin the whole world," the Stalfos said and leapt off the tower on to the wall's battlement, and to the ground from there.

_So he knows about the nature of the Triforce? Perhaps he knew my father after all._

Darion shrugged – he had much more important things to do than worrying about what that Stalfos did or did not know. Holding the final Triforce piece in his hand, he removed the second piece from his shirt pocket with the other and wondered what exactly he would have to do in order to reunite them with the piece inside his body.

_Maybe I have to cut it out of my hand? No, that can't be it. The mark on my hand is just a symbol. The real pieces are as big as my palms. But come to think of it... back in the Sacred Realm, they were even bigger than that. I wonder how this will work..._

Before Darion could decided on what to do, the mark on his hand began to glow, and with a slight tickling sensation, the golden triangle materialized on his left his hand, growing bigger until it matched the other pieces in size. Then, all three pieces slowly rose into the air, drifting towards each other while further growing in size.

_Yes! It's working!_

The three triangles floated in the air above the tower and kept moving until they had assumed the exact same constellation as back in the Sacred Realm, forming one greater triangle that slowly rotated around its own axis, and only stopped moving when Darion touched it with his right hand.

"I am the Essence of the Triforce," a familiar, ethereal voice spoke to Darion. "You are the one whose heart is not in balance."

Darion grunted in disdain when he was reminded of his supposed inadequacy – was it really necessary to harp on that?

"You have reunited all parts of the whole. You are now worthy of commanding the True Force."

_That doesn't even make sense. If my heart is still so unbalanced, then why should I suddenly be worthy now? Is it because of the effort I went through?_

_"This is just how it works,"_ Malark grated. _"Didn't anyone ever teach you about gift horses?"_

_I had no intention of asking that question out loud, you know._

"From now on," the voice of the Essence concluded, "you have but to touch the Triforce and speak your heart's desire, and your every wish shall be fulfilled for as long as you are alive."

"Finally!" Darion said out loud. "I have waited for this moment for a long, long time!"

_"Actually, it's been two weeks," _Malark remarked. _"Now, to deal with the problem at hand... would it behoove you to look east, Darion?"_

"Uh, sure," Darion said and walked to the tower's east side. "Wait, why am I even listening to you anymore? Now that I have the Triforce, I can finally get rid-"

_"Look down there, you idiot!"_

Perhaps it was habit, or perhaps the dead wizard's commanding voice, but Darion obeyed his instruction one last time. He gazed down the tower and saw the eastern parts of the city below, and the green plains of Hyrule Field beyond – and the army of a thousand men that was marching toward Keeptown in battle order, with no more than a few hundred yards distance left between them and the outskirts of town.

_"It is as I predicted. They are coming to deal with the mad prince, once and for all."_

Darion could not believe it. He had almost completely forgotten about the traitors who had turned against their own people and their lord, and now they were coming to bring war to his town, not an ounce better than the slippery Zora? They were trying to assault the Keep where he was master, and murder him as Thallius would have done had he not pre-empted him?

"Oh no, you won't," Darion whispered. "I swear to all that is holy that none of you will so much as set foot in this city! Not if I can prevent it!" He turned around and looked at the golden triangles floating in the air behind him. "And it just so happens that I can," he said with a thin smile. "It's almost as if you're begging me to test the power of the Triforce on you, you traitorous swine!"

Darion turned around and strode back to the Triforce that was still floating in mid-air, awaiting the commands of its new master. He touched the golden triangles with his right hand and spoke in an imperious voice.

„Triforce! Take me down to where these traitors are, so that I can punish them!" He realized that the wording of his command would strand him in front of his enemies while the Triforce remained on the tower, and immediately added: "And follow at my side from now on, no matter where I go!"

As soon as he had finished speaking, the world vanished before Darion's eyes, and an instant later, he found himself standing on the soil just outside of Keeptown, just like back when he had been teleported by Malark. The golden light of the Triforce shone at his right side, assuring Darion that the source of his new power had traveled with him as commanded and was floating in the air awaiting his next order. The army of traitors was right in front of him, not more than a few hundred feet away, led by two dark-clothed figures, probably Shaz and Arnu.

_So she survived the fall... and who's the one in green next to her? Oh yes, Link._

_To think I once called him a friend. He's just like all the others._

By all rights, every single member of this army of traitors had forfeited their lives, and Darion would have been perfectly justified in simply wiping them out without a second's hesitation. _But is this really necessary now that they have no more power over me?_ he wondered as he watched the small, impotent figures moving toward him. For a man who now wielded the power of the gods, would slaughtering them all not be the same as a father killing his child merely for being unruly?

_Perhaps I can forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing._

With newfound calm, Darion touched the Triforce with his right hand and said:

"Triforce! Make it so that every last of these men can hear me. No, more than that! Make it so that every man, woman and child in Keeptown can hear my words, so that they can bear witness to the clemency of their prince."

Darion paused for a second, and when he next spoke, his words resounded across the plains like the voice of a god.

"My children!" His own choice of words surprised Darion, but it seemed appropriate, somehow. "You are not past redemption! Kneel before me and renew your pledge of loyalty, and I shall accept you back into the fold. Persist in your ways, and you shall taste the power of the gods. The choice is yours."

In reaction to Darion's words, commands were shouted among the soldiers, and after several seconds' delay, the army stopped moving. Darion saw a flash of blue light, like that of a spell being cast, and heard a familiar voice speak in reply, amplified by magic. It belonged to Arnu.

"Looking back at everthing, it seems strangely fitting that you never called yourself king, Prince Darion."

_What is she going on about? Why won't they just kneel?_

"For you see," Arnu continued, "a king, no matter how powerful, rules with the consent of the governed. He who rules by threat of force and by fear, on the other hand, is nothing but a tyrant." Her voice was calm and measured, like that of a judge reading a verdict. "And as you should know, history has a tendency of doing away with tyrants."

There was another voice then – not amplified by magic, but strengthened by decades of shouting orders over the sounds of battle. It was the voice of General Shaz, and his words, though few, were even more outrageous than those of Arnu.

"All archers, fire!"

The distance between himself and the army was great enough that Darion could see the approaching arrows and hear the buzzing sounds they made. They were not too many, perhaps three dozen in all – the Hylian army had never had many archers – and they traveled slow enough that he might have been able to dodge them, had the sheer audacity of their firing not frozen him in place. _So this is the reward for my compassion_, he thought bitterly before the arrows hit him.

Not all of the missiles found their target; in fact, most of them whizzed past or above Darion and buried their arrowheads in the soft soil. Some of them hit the Triforce, and a remote part of Darion's consciousness registered that they did not leave as much as a nick on the smooth golden surface. But at least three arrows had hit their mark and were now protruding from his chest and waist, and one or more in his left leg. The force of their impact made Darion stagger backwards, and the pain of the small, sharp bits of metal piercing his flesh made him scream in agony. The world turned black around him, and his strength began to fade from his body.

_How dare they! To strike me down... at the very eve of my glorious victory! I shall have them-_

A second volley of arrows came flying and interrupted Darion's train of thought. Again his flesh was pierced, and more founts of agony sprung up in his body. What was left of his strength was not enough to withstand the impact of the arrows and he was knocked to the ground. His head drooped to the right, and he felt the cold soil of the grave against his cheek.

_How thorough these traitors are... They know that if they don't finish me... there will be no place to hide from my wrath in the entire universe. _

Darion heard the faint whizzing of a third volley, but none of the arrows hit him, perhaps because he was a more difficult target lying flat on the ground. That was all the reprieve he was ever going to get, and all the reprieve he needed: With a long-drawn, pained groan, he forced his limbs to move, his body to rise, his legs to stand. His eyesight had not returned, and his legs would not support him for long, so he swung his arms around wildly, flailing like a man in his last throes. But it was not fear or panic that drove Darion: It was the knowledge that there was still hope for him for as long as he was alive, even if that time would have to be measured by the seconds now.

_It's somewhere around here... somewhere... curses, if only I could see!_

He heard the fourth volley of arrows approach, sooner than it should have come. The traitors were watching him, and realized what he was doing, and urged their bowmen on to greater haste. But their haste came at the expense of accuracy, and all their arrows missed Darion. One of them, however, hit the Triforce, and the clinking sound of the arrowhead colliding with the golden triangles was like a signal from the goddesses themselves. The prince threw his arms in the direction of the sound, and rejoiced when his right hand felt the warm, smooth touch of his salvation.

"Triforce!" he whispered. "Heal me!"

In an instant, both strength and sight returned to Darion, so fast that he almost fell over from shock. The pain vanished at the same time, without even a trace of the numbness that usually took its place, and his wounds closed, expelling the arrows that fell to the ground like the discarded playthings of a bored child. His clothes were still wet with his own blood, but there was no mistaking it: The power of the gods had brought him back from the verge of death.

But not even the Triforce's might could have quelled Darion's fury now. He realized that he was not invulnerable, and that his enemies were not deserving of his mercy. He slammed his fist against the Triforce and shouted "Up! Up!" The Triforce interpreted his words correctly and raised him high up into the sky, far beyond the range of the impudent archers who had dared to attack its master, while following at his side as ordered. Seen from up here, the army of traitors below him was nothing more than a rectangle consisting of grey dots.

"You are nothing but ants before me!" Darion shouted, and noted with satisfaction that his voice was still being amplified. "And like ants I shall crush you!" He let several seconds pass after that announcement, thereby giving his enemies time to realize that they were doomed. During that time he recalled the pain he had suffered at their hands, and decided that a quick, merciful death, while certainly within the capacity of the Triforce, would be too good for them.

"Triforce!" Darion's voice boomed as he touched the golden triangles yet again. "Bathe them in fire!"

In an instant, the sky above and around Darion turned red, and large orbs of pure flame appeared among the rapidly evaporating clouds. The heat was tremendous, but not quite enough to harm Darion; certainly, the Triforce knew better than to accidentally hurt its own master. As soon as they appeared, the orbs of fire shot down toward the earth at a slight angle like rain blown by a gentle breeze, drawing trails of fire behind them that resembled those of shooting stars. They had not even passed half the distance to the ground when more appeared in their place and followed, creating something that might be described as a hailstorm of fire.

_Look at them scatter_, Darion thought when he saw the ants below him try and escape the doom they had made for themselves. _But they cannot outrun my fury._

The first wave of fireballs hit the ground below Darion, but even if the sound of their impact and the panicked cries of the traitors could have reached him in these heights, the howling of the wind currents caused by the sudden change in air temperature would have drowned them out. But that was quite all right with Darion: He contended himself with watching the tiny grey dots being thrown into the air whenever one of the burning orbs impacted near them, as well as those who were ignited by the fire and ran in circles for a short while until they stopped moving, consumed by the flames.

"It is written that the deepest pits of hell are reserved for those who betray their master!" Darion's voice thundered across the sky and the earth; the last thing the traitors below would ever hear outside of their own death screams. "Think of this as a foretaste of what awaits you! None of you will join the Goddesses in heaven! You have consigned yourselves to an eternity of pain and despair!"

After only three waves of fiery orbs, the greater whole of what was once the Hylian army had been wiped out, and only a scant few of those at the rims of the formation had managed to escape with their lives. The grey dots that were these survivors inched over the landscape below into all directions; away, only away from the flames that threatened to consume them. Some of them fled directly toward Keeptown, perhaps seeking sanctuary there, or perhaps by mere accident. But the barrage of fire did not follow, instead hitting the charred remains of the host of traitors again, as if for good measure.

_And that is just as well, or the town might suffer another conflagration. No harm must come to the people entrusted to me!_

Darion decided that pursuing the survivors and taking them out one after the other was beneath him and a waste of his time, so he ordered the Triforce to take everyone who still lived and spirit them away into the dungeons of the Keep. Not only had they dared to betray and murder him; they were adding insult to injury by trying to escape their just punishment! _But there is no escaping the power of the gods_, Darion thought and smiled when he saw the few grey dots that were still moving vanish on the spot. He would come up with a suitable method of execution later – now he had to present himself to his people! After all, he could now become king in name as well as in fact, in accordance to the resolution he had made on the day the Triforce had split.

_They will be overjoyed to see me! Too long have I denied them the opportunity to pay homage to their rightful king._

After revoking the command that amplified his voice – after all, it would not do to burst the eardrums of his loyal subjects – Darion had the Triforce move him toward Keeptown in a gentle, descending arc. The view of his beloved home city from above was truly a sight to behold, although the charred remains of the craftsmen's quarter were an ugly scar that marred its beauty. This would be the first thing for him to repair with the power of the gods, right after assuming the mantle of kingship from the hands of his people, as a demonstration of the blessings the future had in store for them.

Floating down from the sky like a feather, Darion approached main square, the largest open space in the city. It was already crowded with townspeople who had probably come together upon hearing their prince's voice rendering judgement over those who had betrayed him. When it became apparent that he was going to land among them, they quickly cleared a circle of several feet in diameter, and with a pang of regret, Darion registered an inkling of fright in their hushed voices as they watched him touch down on the paved ground.

_It is not everyday that the prince comes flying from the sky – it is understandable that they should feel some discomfort. But they will get used to the supernatural soon enough. The Triforce will change everything._

"My people!" Darion cried out in joy, satisfied that his voice was loud enough to reach everyone assembled around him even without the aid of the Triforce. "The sun has not risen on a more glorious day ever since the dawn of the world! A new age is about to begin, here and now! And I shall be the king who leads you into this era of unparalleled prosperity!"

Restrained cheers answered Darion's announcement, as if something was bothering the people around him. He wondered what it might be, then realized that his clothes were still stained with his own blood, and torn to shreds by the arrows that had wounded him. _Truly not a fitting garment for the steward of the gods_, he realized, and touched the Triforce, commanding it to clothe him in a silken white robe adorned with patterns made from pure gold. For the sake of convenience, he also had the opulent, diamond-stud crown worn only during the coronation ceremony appear in his hands.

_But who shall perform the coronation? Protocol demands it be done by the head of the sages... but Arnu had to betray on me on this historic day!_

Darion felt renewed anger seize him when he thought of the treacherous woman who had dared to deny his kingship, and quickly banished all thoughts about her and the other traitors from his mind – after all, they were all dead now, safe the few who awaited their execution. He would not have his own coronation sullied by displaying before his people a face twisted with rage.

"You're majesty! We're so relieved to see you safe!"

A lone woman emerged from the still slightly anxious crowd, her face red with tears, her long, braided hair in disarray. Both hands were behind her back, and her gaze was downcast as she approached the prince.

"Skyll!" Darion recognized the mayor, whose presence was no surprise given that the town hall was directly adjacent to main square. "Why are you crying?"

"Oh, think nothing of it, Prince Darion," the young woman replied and sniffed. "It was just... we were all so concerned about your safety! These... these... traitors..." Her voice trailed off, and she wiped away the tears with her sleeve.

Taken by this unexpected show of affection, Darion reached out to pat her on the shoulder. Skyll flinched when he touched her, but said nothing; instead, she looked at the Triforce floating next to Darion.

"So this is the Triforce," she marveled.

"Yes," Darion replied with a silly sense of pride in his voice.

"It protected you against the traitors? Does it make you... invulnerable?"

"No, not unless I order it to. And I won't need its protection among my own people."

"Of course not, your highness! We're all on your side!"

Skyll's assurance made Darion smile. When he had seen some of the survivors flee toward Keeptown, he had feared for a moment that they would infect the innocent townsfolk with their treachery, and he was relieved to see that his fears had been unfounded, that even Skyll was moved to tears by his safe return.

He remembered the mayor's furious outburst on the morning of the Zora attack, her painful accusations of inadequacy as a protector of the people. He had been angry then, not just because of the tone she was taking with her prince, but also at himself. But that was in the past. With the Triforce as their shield, who would dare threaten his people now?

Darion looked at Skyll, who was again looking uncomfortably at his feet, and at the crown still resting in his hands, when inspiration struck him.

"I wish to hold my coronation now," he said and presented the crown to the mayor, "I realize this is an unusual request, but... would you do the honour?"

Skyll blinked several times, then her face lit up in delight and she nodded eagerly. "Of course, your highness! The honour is all mine!" She took the crown from his hands and walked around Darion with measured, dignified steps appropriate for the occasion, although her hands were shaking slightly. With an almost boyish excitement, Darion removed his accustomed silver circlet from his head in anticipation of the true crown of Hyrule. "Don't worry about formalities," he said without turning his head, since Skyll was bound not to know the specifics of the coronation ceremony. "Just say whatever comes to your mind."

"I will, your highness," her voice sounded from behind. Darion took a deep breath and hoped that his features were composed enough for this grand occasion. His gaze wandered over the crowd of townspeople who looked at him with great anticipation. Whispers arose here and there, but were hushed immediately.

"There is no need for many words," Skyll said behind him, her voice tense, but steady. "We all know who Prince Darion is, and what he has done for us today. In the name of all Hylians, I call upon the Goddesses as my witnesses as I now bestow upon him his rightful crown." Overcome by joy, Darion felt the crown being placed on his hair, its weight on his head.

"Long live the king!" Skyll exclaimed, and an instant later, unspeakable pain erupted in Darion's neck, and he saw the tip of a knife protruding from his throat. His head bobbed to the side, and he saw the crown fall to the pavement below.

"You... too!" he exclaimed, and could barely understand his own gurgling voice. Blood spouted from his wound and his mouth even as he spoke.

_I never should have trusted... the Triforce! Where's the Triforce!_

Staggering, Darion turned to his right where the Triforce was still floating, but Skyll had placed herself between him and his one hope for salvation, favouring him with a cold, yet hateful stare.

"My brother was with the army you destroyed," she said with a trembling voice. "And countless other brothers and fathers and sons! We need no god king who thinks of them as ants to be crushed!"

"Traaaaitor!" Darion tried to grab her, but she seized his wrists and held them still. She was only a young woman without a particularly powerful build, but Darion's life was pouring out of his throat, and his strength was barely enough to keep him on his feet. Then he heard the sounds of countless feet closing in around them, and drew new hope.

_My people! They'll save me!_

"Careful! He needs to touch it to use it!"

"Hold his arms!"

"Drag him away!"

_What? What are you saying? What are you doing?_

Darion was seized by a dozen strong arms, and when Skyll let go of his hands, they, too, were restrained. He was surrounded by a furious mob on all sides, and felt himself being dragged away from the Triforce.

_No! You mustn't! You fools!_

A sharp blade pierced Darion's back from behind, but the pain paled in comparison to that in his throat. Then another blade, and another. Daggers and knives and shivs were brandished at him from all directions, and a thousand angry voices were shouting at him.

"He's not dead yet!"

"Finish him quickly!"

"Cut off his head!"

Skyll's knife was pulled out of his throat, which made Darion scream in with renewed and increased agony, and he felt a sharp edge cutting at the back of his neck.

"It's moving!" a panicked voice suddenly cried out somewhere close by, and Darion saw the golden shape of the Triforce floating toward him, parting the mob between them with an invisible force.

_Yes! Closer! Come closer!_

"Stop it!"

"Don't let it reach him!"

Many of the men who were restraining Darion let go of him and threw themselves in the path of the Triforce, but they were brushed aside like pebbles by an unseen broom. Darion felt his left arm free to move, and now that the Triforce was right in front of him, he pushed it forward without hesitation.

"Grhheal mrreee!" was the sound that came out of his destroyed throat, barely more than a death-rattle - but the Triforce understood. Once again Darion was made whole, wounds closed, knives expelled, and his strength restored. Wrath overcame him such as he had never imagined a man could feel, and with a shout of "Up!", the Triforce once again lifted him into the sky. The town still looked the same as before, but it had suddenly lost all of its beauty.

"You ungrateful dogs!" Darion's voice was not amplified, but his rage was enough to make himself heard even down below. "I did everything for you! Like my father before me, and his father, I dedicated my life to serve you. And THIS is how you repay me, you traitorous vermin? By trying to murder your own king? By slapping away the hand that offered you salvation from all earthly plights?"

It was their underhanded treachery that incensed Darion, but the stupidity of their actions alone was almost enough to justify his fury.

"You don't even realize what you just threw away! The power that could have served you, and that you rejected!" He paused for a moment before he continued, his voice already hoarse. "Let me educate you!" His right hand touched the Triforce that was faithfully floating next to its master and caressed its smooth edges like the skin of a lover.

"Everyone betrayed me except for you," he whispered, then raised his voice again. "Triforce! Demonstrate your might! Show these fools the power of the gods! Reduce their town to rubble! Do not leave a single house standing!"

Only when he had finished his command did Darion realized that he had not specified a method of destruction, but the Triforce did not require such details. Beams of golden light began shooting forth from the tip of the topmost triangle and instantly traveled to the surface below, making similar noises as fingernails on a blackboard. Where the beams intersected with the ground, large explosions shook the earth, blasting the houses of Keeptown to smithereens in a veritable hailstorm of charred, broken timber. One of the beams hit the centre of main square with an accuracy that made Darion suspect again that the Triforce was reading his mind, and he smiled when the small grey dots populating the square were blasted dozens of feet into the air before they smashed back down on the pavement and lay still.

But the beams of destruction did not simply vanish after hitting their target: Instead, they rapidly traveled across town like a quill dragged over parchment by a crazed scribe, causing new explosions every other second as they moved, leaving behind trails of smoking craters in their wake. One of the beams reached the Keep's wall and cut through the massive fortifications like a hot knife through butter. Explosions shook Darion's ancestral home, scarring the courtyard, flattening buildings and toppling walls and towers alike. Without the slightest hint of pity, Darion watched the place where he had been born and raised be reduced to rubble. After the incident with the Gerudo, he had moved his young brother and his nurses to the North Garrison, and there was now nobody left in the Keep about whose life he gave a damn.

_The guards would all have turned traitor, anyway. I saw it in their eyes. The way they looked at me when I went to meet the Stalfos – as if I was some kind of madman!_

Darion felt no misplaced remorse for what he was doing, but even with the power of the gods at his command he was still only a man who could feel regret. As the golden beams of destruction slowly subsided below him, their work mostly done, he imagined what could have been if fate had looked more favourably upon him. He could have turned Hyrule into a paradise without war and disease, suffering and pain – and he could have awakened his poor sister, too.

_But I can't do that now. The North Garrison where Zelda sleeps can't have been infected with treachery yet, so she's safe there, at least for a short while. But if I wake her now and call her to my side, she would be targeted by murderers like I was. I can't do that to her. She and Kyrus will have to remain hidden in the north, at least until... until I do what?_

_What shall I do now?_

The faint sounds of explosions below Darion stopped, and he saw that the golden beams had disappeared, too. He looked down below at the field of craters and smoke and rubble, and nodded with grim satisfaction. Keeptown had ceased to exist. There was still some movement among the ashes, Darion noted, which meant that there were survivors – not because the Triforce lacked the power to wipe them out, but merely because Darion had not explicitly ordered it to kill out every single living being in the city. He could have amended that oversight with a single command, but his fury had burnt out.

_Even if I kill them, there's no guarantee that their treason won't spread – it's more insidious than the plague was, and I doubt even the Triforce can expunge evil from the hearts of men. Given enough time, all of Hyrule will succumb to this corruption, and they will turn against me and my family. What can I do? I can't kill everyone in the whole country! I mean, of course I could, but... that would be madness!_

Darion fought to stave off despair and turned his gaze away from the destruction below to the vast, almost impassable mountain ranges that isolated Hyrule from its neighbouring kingdoms. From his position high in the sky, he could see beyond the snowcapped peaks – could see lakes and plains and meadows, so similar to those in Hyrule, yet so different: Fresh, promising, uncorrupted. He could even see the shoreline of an ocean, whose vast, blue expanse reached to the ends of the horizon, and wondered what lay on its unseen shores.

_I have been focused on this country for too long_, he realized._ Hyrule is merely a speck of dust in this vast world the Goddesses created. Somewhere, there must be people who will appreciate what I can do for them. Who will welcome me and my brother and sister with open arms!_

The more Darion thought about this idea, the more he liked it. He could awaken Zelda and take her and Kyrus far away, into a land where nobody even knew their names, nor the name of the country that had betrayed them. They could start all over, and build a new kingdom, founded on the power of the gods, and welcome all with open arms whose hearts were free of treachery.

_It is decided. I shall turn my back on this place, and never return._

Fulfilled with new hope, Darion wanted to depart for the north immediately, to fetch his siblings and seek out their future. But there was a nagging feeling that told him he had something left to do here. Something he had wanted to do for a while now... something to do with the Triforce.

_Utter nonsense_, Darion thought and looked down at the ruined Keep. _There is nothing left for me here. There are only the dead, and those who don't know they are dead yet._

_The dead..._

_Father!_

"Triforce!" Darion commanded, touching the surface of the golden triangles, "lower me to the entrance of the royal crypt! Fast!" The Triforce obeyed instantly, and Darion descended quickly to the ruined courtyard of the destroyed Keep, in the small graveyard where he had caught the Gerudo thieves digging up Malark's corpse a week ago. Part of the graveyard had been replaced with a smoldering crater, but the small stone building with the locked metal gate that led into the royal crypt was still whole. Darion had the Triforce open it and descended into the crypt, and the golden light of the triangles that followed faithfully at his side illuminated the vault where Hyrule's dead kings and queens had been laid to rest.

_And I will permit father to rest, but not before I can resolve things up between us! I can finally tell him that I was never serious about looking forward to his death! That I always respected him even when I so strongly disagreed with him about the Triforce! At least this one thing will not be denied to me. After this, I can forever leave Hyrule behind and start a new life with Zelda and Kyrus._

The burial had not been that long ago, Darion recalled sorrowfully, and so he found his father's granite sarcophagus immediately. With his own strength, he pushed open the heavy lid and let it drop to the floor of the crypt with a loud, echoing thud. After making sure that it was truly his father's body in the sarcophagus, lying peacefully with his arms folded over his chest, Darion nodded twice, as if to strengthen his own resolve, and touched the Triforce.

"Bring my father back to life," he said, "for as long as it takes for the misunderstanding between us to be cleared up!" As soon as Darion had spoken, the Triforce began to shine far brighter than he had ever seen it before, and he had to close his eyes or risk permanent damage.

_Bringing back the dead must be a difficult thing to do, even with the power of the gods._

After a few seconds, the Triforce's light returned to normal levels, but Darion kept his eyes closed, perhaps in a childish fear that maybe it had not worked, after all.

_'Every wish' means 'every wish'. It simply has to work!_

"Where... where am I?"

"Father!"

Darion's eyes flew open, and he saw his father sitting upright in his sarcophagus, looking around in confusion with half-opened eyes.

"This place... how did I get here? I went to sleep in my bed!"

"You died, father," Darion said with tears in his eyes. He could not even imagine how disoriented the old man was feeling and wanted to explain everything to him. "You died, but I brought you back. Not forever, if you don't want to," he added quickly. "But I simply had to talk to you again."

Still clearly befuddled, Artaxis tried to climb out of his sarcophagus and almost fell in the attempt, when Darion caught him and helped him until he stood on his own two feet again. Blinking and mumbling, his father looked around again, and with a gasp that sounded like a cough, beheld the Triforce, and became lucid at once.

"Darion! What have you done to me?" he demanded and seized his son's shoulders with barely warm hands. "This is against nature!"

"Please, father, calm yourself," Darion said. He had feared such a reaction, and was prepared for it. "It won't take long. Please, hear me out!"

"You have taken the Triforce from its resting place," Artaxis said, his voice more fearful than angry. "What are you trying to to? Become a god?"

"Father, please, listen to me for just a minute! What I said back then-"

"You did not listen to me, either!" the former king almost shouted. "I told you only to use it in emergencies, and the death of an old man is not an emergency!"

Distraught by his father's uncooperative attitude, Darion put his hands to his temples and took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than he had hoped for – par for the course with his father, really, now that he thought about it. After all, the two of them had not seen eye to eye very often. But he was determinded to see this through, even if he would be berated by his father one last time.

"I understand that you're angry," he made a first concession, "but-"

"I'm not angry! I'm concerned. About you, my son." His father let go of Darion's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Don't you know what such power can do to a person? Even a disciplined mind cannot – wait." Artaxis narrowed his eyes. "Is this the first wish you made?"

"Y-yes," Darion replied quickly.

"Oh, no, my son," Artaxis replied. "You could never lie to me. To everybody else, perhaps. But not to me." He shook his head. "You already made a wish. Lots of them, probably."

"That's not impo-"

"It's very important!" Artaxis cut him off forcefully. "But it seems I won't get an honest answer from you. Very well." He turned around and began to walk toward the crypt's entrance. "You don't have to answer anything. I'll see for myself."

Dumbstruck by this development, Darion remained standing where he was, almost frozen on the crypt's floor, the Triforce still floating next to him. Then the realization struck him that no matter what would happen between the two down here, his father must never learn what had happened outside.

"Wait!" he cried out and followed after Artaxis, almost tripping over his own feet, but his father did not wait. He strode purposefully toward the exit, and Darion had to resort to seizing his arm to stop him. "Let go of me!" the former king shouted and slapped his son across the face. Darion recoiled – his father had not hit him for, what, fifteen years? – and let go of his hand, and his eyes followed the old man as he reached the small staircase leading outside. When Darion finally got a hold of himself and caught up with him, it was too late: His father had reached the exit, and was now standing in the ruined courtyard.

"No! You can't see this!" Darion pleaded with him. "Come back! Don't look!" But Artaxis was already looking. His head turned left and right, up and down, looked at the collapsed towers and the toppled walls and the ruined remains of the ruined city beyond.

"Who did this?" Artaxis' voice was a barely audible whisper. "Who did this?" he repeated, without turning around. Darion wanted to lie to him, tell him that it was the Zora, or the Gorons, or even the Katalonians, but he knew that his father would see through him.

"You... you don't know the circumstances," he stuttered. "I... I had no choice! They wanted to hinder me... everybody was sabotaging me. And then... then they tried to kill me!" His voice was shaking, for he desperately wanted his father to understand. "They tried to kill me!"

"There are worse things than death," Artaxis replied, still without even looking at his son. "Far worse things." He chocked up, and although Darion could not see, he knew that his father was crying.

"Please, you have to understand!"

"Things like seeing everything you ever cared for in ruins," his father spoke, ignoring Darion's pleas. "Things like seeing your own son destroying everything you ever worked for!" he sobbed.

"It's not like that. Please, you have to-"

"If only you would have left me in there!" his father shouted and finally turned around to face Darion. Tears were streaming down his face, and his entire body trembled as he spoke. "Oh merciful Goddesses, if only you would have left me lying in my grave to rot! If only I had been cast into the darkest corner of hell and tortured for the rest of eternity, as long as I never would have seen _this_!"

"Please, father, don't talk like this!" Now Darion was crying, too. "Don't talk like this to your son!"

"You are not my son," Artaxis said, and Darion's body became cold as if the old man's breath had turned to ice. "Do you hear me? I RENOUNCE YOU!"

"Don't turn against me, too, father, I beg-"

"Don't call me father!" Artaxis shouted and slapped Darion so hard he almost toppled down into the crypt. "I told you, you are not my son!"

"SHUT UP!"

His father's words were too much for Darion. All the treachery and betrayal in the world he could have dealt with, but not this one. With a brief, shrill scream, he tore his sword out of its scabbard and thrust it into the old man's chest. It passed through his body without effort, and out again with a single jerky pull, and the former king staggered toward Darion, his mouth open, his tearful eyes dead. Without thinking, Darion made a quick step aside, and Artaxis fell to the ground next to him, and lay still.

"Wh-what have I done?" Darion cast an incredulous glance at the body that had once been his father. Then his eyes wandered upwards, along the remains of the Keep's walls and to the crater landscape that had once been Hyrule's most populated town.

"What have I done?"

Images of people flashed past Darion's inner eye. Zelda. Callach. The Zora Queen. Thallius. Lohgrimm. Skyll. His father.

"What have I DONE?"

Something snapped in Darion's mind, and a strange haze blurred his eyes. He could no longer stay still, no longer remain in this place, and so he ran, dragging his sword behind him. He screamed while he ran, and then he laughed, and then he screamed again. He tripped over his feet several times, but always got back up, and continued to run. Away, only away from everything, that was the only thing resembling a thought going through his mind.

From the corners of his eyes, he saw a small group of people looking at him, pointing at him, yelling at him. He yelled back without stopping, without knowing what he was yelling, and ran, onward and onward, with no destination or direction in mind. Away, only away.

But no matter how fast Darion ran, the Triforce always followed right at his side, a wraith in the form of three golden triangles, unshakable in its pursuit and relentless in its obedience.


	32. Ashes to Ashes

Act III of III

**Chapter 32: Ashes to Ashes**

The sight of fire falling from the sky and scorching the earth, as if the end days had arrived and the whole world was unmade. The panicked voices of men who screamed as their flesh burned, their eyes melted and their skin bubbled. The biting smell of charred corpses that was so uncannily familiar to the broiled pork he had used to like. These were the things Link dreamt about, and so he was altogether quite happy when he was roused from his sleep, even though the hands shaking his shoulders could have been a tad more gentle.

"Wake up! Come on, Link, it's time to get out of this hole."

Link opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was light – not the unnatural, magical light Arnu had used to illuminate the half-collapsed dungeon, but the warm rays of the sun entering through an opening in the ceiling. An opening that had not been there when Link had grudgingly surrendered to sleep who knew how many hours ago.

_They've dug us out!_ he thought as realization set in and rubbed his eyes. _I'm not going to die in here after all!_

"Finally awake, eh? Good." Arnu's voice was cracked and hoarse which tempered her usual gruffness, but not in a good way. "We're leaving. Can't say I'll miss the hospitality of this place."

Link yawned and moistened his dried lips with his tongue, feeling the thirst from going without water for a day or longer, and rose from the wooden pallet he had slept on. Still sleepy, he followed Arnu through the cell door into the dungeon's corridor where the surviving soldiers had assembled and were exchanging eager shouts with the people who were digging in from above. Dust entered his lungs, and he coughed. Wiping his watery eyes clean, Link looked up to the men above who were now dropping ropes through the opening.

"How do we know they're not with Darion?" he asked.

"Common sense," Arnu replied. "He whisked us in here, he could whisk us out just as easily. The fact that he hasn't done so hopefully means that somebody put an end to him."

"I wouldn't count on that," Link said with a sense of foreboding.

"I am not."

Several young men came climbing down the rope and were greeted with great enthusiasm, especially when they distributed small, but appreciable quantities of food and water among the survivors. When Link inspected their rescuers, he found that they were not looking much better off than he and the others in the dungeon: Their clothing was often ripped, their skin was caked with dirt and blood, and their faces were set in a mask of suppressed grief, barely moved by the discovery of the survivors down here.

_What exactly has Darion done up there after he banished us in here? _was Link's first thought, followed immediately by another: _Do I even want to know?_

Arnu, at least, did want to know, for she walked up to one of their rescuers and asked him about the situation above ground. The man evaded her question and asked about the number of survivors in the dungeon instead.

"Thirty-one," Arnu replied. "We used to be more, but half of the dungeon collapsed shortly after we were teleported inside." She pointed at the mountain of rubble where the cells closest to the dungeon's entrance had been. "I melted down the lock, but couldn't do anything about the bar on the other side, at least not without some time. And there were wounded to take care of, so..." She shrugged.

"No one could have predicted that the ceiling would come down," Link said. "You don't have to blame yourself."

"Who said anything about blaming myself?" Arnu turned around and raised an eyebrow at Link. "Wallowing in despair and remorse is the privilege of youth. Although there are some oversights for which I do blame myself... but that has to do with Darion more than anything else."

Voices were raised and curses uttered when Arnu mentioned the prince. One man even reprimanded her for even mentioning his name, which only made the Sheikah woman roll her eyes.

"I don't see General Shaz anywhere," the man spoke and looked around. "Wasn't he with you? Or was he..." His gaze hurried over the rubble.

"He was," Arnu simply said.

"I'll have men come down here. We'll have to remove all the debris and look for survivors."

"There's no need to waste time and energy with that," Arnu said. "I used a number or probing spells, and I can guarantee that the only living things beneath those stones are a number of rats."

"If... if that's what you say, Sage..."

Arnu's words brought back Link's memories of the moment of collapse, and with frightful accuracy. The panic and confusion stemming from Darion's insane actions and their sudden relocation had only just began to simmer down, and the men not yet freed by Arnu had been clamouring for her to melt down the locks of their cells. The sage had told them to shut up and wait until she had looked after the wounds of the men who had been burned, but not killed by Darion's flames.

Of course that delay had proven a blessing in disguise, since most of the men she had freed had clustered around the dungeon's entrance where a hateful old man had been screaming and laughing at them from the other side, calling them "Zora collaborators" and telling them how much he was looking forward to their executions. Then the ceiling had come down without warning, along with muffled sounds of explosions from above, and buried the old man along with Shaz and about two dozen soldiers, so fast that few of them had even had time to scream.

Link himself had been with Arnu at that time, at the far side of the corridor, and had spent the next few minutes in fearful anticipation of the rest of the dungeon collapsing as well. The sounds of explosions had continued for a short while, followed by a prolonged period of dreadful silence, but the rest of the dungeon had been spared from destruction.

"Now that I've answered your question," Arnu said to the man in charge of the rescuing party, "please answer mine: What happened up there?"

"You... you'll see that for yourself. It's not easy to describe."

_Darion probably put the town on fire, as well_, Link thought. _That man has gone so far over the edge he has almost circled around and reached it from the other side again._

"Fine, I'll see for myself," Arnu replied and walked toward the opening in the ceiling where the last of the wounded was just being tied to ropes and carefully pulled up. "Me, too, if you please," she called out. "I'm an old woman, after all. I can't climb up on my own."

With a much-needed hint of amusement, Link watched the sage being ungracefully pulled toward the opening in the ceiling. His good cheer vanished as quickly as it had come, however, when he heard Arnu gasp and mumble to herself once she reached the surface.

Steeling himself against the sight that had shocked even the borderline cynical sage, Link began his climb to freedom as soon as the ropes were lowered again. His body glid up the rough rope with an ease that surprised him; nightmare-ridden though his sleep might have been, it had clearly replenished his strength. When he was close to the opening in the ceiling, several helping hands reached out to him and pulled him out. He quickly stepped away from the hole to make room for those following after him and looked around in fearful expectation.

The tattered bits of red carpet on a stone floor told Link that they were in one of the Keep's rooms, except that there was not much left of the walls or ceiling, nor the rest of the Keep, for that matter. He slowly turned around and looked in all directions, but all he saw was blackened remains of walls and random piles of stones in all directions. Few stones had been left unturned, and the entire Keep was nothing more than a smoldering ruin.

As was, Link only now realized, the whole town around them.

"Merciful Goddesses," he whispered and stared at the ocean of rubble expanding all around him, punctuated only by a few man-shaped figures stumbling through the ruins, no doubt searching for the survivors of whatever cataclysm had taken place here. As far as he could see, there was not a single house left standing, but there was no smell of burned wood in the air, nor any ashes to be seen – only a vast expanse of splintered wood and littered stones.

"This was no fire," Link said to himself. "How did this happen?"

"It seems that Darion was rather creative in his method of destruction." Arnu had appeared behind Link, and, judging from the sound of her voice, had already collected herself. "It looks like a hundred thousand bomb flowers exploded at the same time. That would also explain the noises we heard."

"You... you sound pretty calm," Link stuttered.

"Will breaking down and crying change anything?" Arnu asked. "Or shaking my fists and cursing Darion's name?"

"N-no," Link admitted.

"Look around you. Everyone is like that. It's only natural."

Link overlooked the two dozen or so men nearby who had dug their way through the floor into the dungeon. The expressions on their dirt-stained faces and the inflections of their short-winded conversations bespoke resigned acceptance of what had happened. These men had witnessed and survived the utter destruction of their hometown, and had put themselves to work soon after in order to save a handful of soldiers none of them even knew. Link gulped and vowed to imitate them instead of wasting time on being gloomy.

"Reality forces us to acknowledge it," Arnu said. "Despair is merely another word for denial. And denial is for children."

Link turned around and watched as the rest of the surviving soldiers came climbing out of the dungeon, one after another. He observed their reactions, if only to distract himself, and found that they all went through almost exactly the same steps: Widened, horrified eyes, a curse or some muttering, then a short phase of staring in all directions, followed by resignation in the form of lowered heads and sagging shoulders. Only one young man deviated from the pattern, falling to his knees and wailing in anguish, loudly proclaiming "This is impossible!" and "This isn't true!"

"Denial is for children," Arnu repeated and nodded in the direction of the young soldier. "Just because he has a sword and a uniform doesn't mean he isn't a child." Link wanted to reply that these words were heartless even for her, but was taken aback when he recognized the young soldier. He was one of the recruits who had been under his command a mere three days ago, whom he had last seen when departing from Kakariko with Ashru and his men.

_So at least some of them lived through the battle with the Zoras... which is not that surprising, since the Zoras lost pretty badly. So they, too, were among the soldiers when Darion let the sky rain fire._

Link recalled somebody sobbing even back in the dungeon, though in a cell far from his own, and realized now that it must have been this soldier, shaken by the destruction of the army even before he had learned about what had happened to the town. He watched the young man jump back on his feet and cast frenzied glances at everyone around him, perhaps looking for someone to tell him that it was all a bad dream. His gaze met Link, and remained locked on his face for a second, prompting Link to lower his head, but it was too late: The young soldier had recognized him and came running toward him.

_Why am I trying to hide from him?_

_Perhaps because I don't even remember his name._

"Link! Is that you? By the goddesses, you're alive!"

The young soldier – not really much younger than Link, he realized, but he still thought of him as such – came to an awkward stop in front of him and showered him with words while the tears still ran down his face.

"It's you! Link, it's you! Were you in there with me? I didn't even see you! What's with these clothes?"

"It's good to see you, too," Link replied and gave his best to sound truthful. "What happened to everybody else?" An instant later, he realized what the answer to that question would be, and mentally kicked himself.

"They all died!" the young man cried. "We were all the way in the back of the army, and they still died! When the fire fell from the sky, they just stood there, while I... I..."

"You ran away," Link completed his sentence. "You were right to. It's only because you ran that you are still alive."

"You told us never to break formation in battle, because that endangered everybody! But I still ran, and so-"

"So what?" Link saw that the seeds of guilt had already taken hold in him, and tried to stamp them out before they could grow. "What good would it have done if you had stayed? You would have died, too."

"But... but..." he whimpered, "you... you mustn't break formation in battle! And I still did it!"

_Is he even listening to me?_

_Ah, I mustn't get angry with him. He's completely out of it, and who could blame him?_

"It wasn't a battle, was it?" Link pointed out. "There was no enemy army. You did nothing wrong." He hesitated and added: "The others should have run, too. You did the smart thing."

The young soldier cast a suspicious glance at Link, as if he realized that he was being consoled, then his expression darkened.

"Where were you, anyway? You were supposed to be our leader! Why didn't you come back after leaving with the Sheikah?"

"I was with the army," Link defended himself. "Otherwise, how could I have been in the dungeon with you?"

"But you weren't with us, like you're supposed to!" the soldier shouted. "Why were you off somewhere else? If you had been there, you could have told them to run!"

_Just great,_ Link thought. _When I told you it wasn't your fault, I wasn't trying to insinuate that it was mine._

"That's enough, young man." Arnu had watched the conversation between them with measured disinterest, but saw it fit to intervene now. "Link was with me at the time, at the request of the late General Shaz. If you have any complaints, direct them to me."

"Thank you, Arnu," Link said, "but I can handle-"

"You have excellent reasons to be angry, boy," she told the young soldier, ignoring Link, "but you are addressing the wrong person. Or did you not notice who it was that killed your comrades?"

"It... it sounded like the prince," Link's former subordinate admitted. "But what do I know? Nobody explained anything to us!"

"Then let me explain," Arnu said, "in the most unmistakable-"

The Sage of Shadow stopped in mid-sentence when warning cries erupted among the men around them, and the familiar sound of swords being drawn could be heard. Link turned around and looked into the direction they were facing, and saw two strange figures standing tall between the piles of rubble that had been the Keep's main building, no more than thirty feet away from the rescuers and the rescued. They were a Moblin and a Stalfos Knight, both of them covered in a thin, grey layer of dust, looking as thought they had just dug themselves out of the ruined building. The Moblin was sluggish in his posture and was pressing one hand against the side of his head, as though he was suffering from a concussion, while the Stalfos stood next to him, staring at him with hollow eye sockets.

"What... these two were in the Keep?" Arnu's voice was incredulous. "Was this Darion's doing, too?"

Somebody shouted an order, and about half of the surviving soldiers rushed toward the two monsters. The young soldier from Link's unit ran, too, shouting "That's the one from the village!" when he passed Link. Feeling not particularly order-bound, Link stayed where he was and narrowed his eyes, inspecting the two monsters while the soldiers surrounded them.

_The Moblin has the same armour and spear like the one from the village, so it's him, all right. Or was he talking about the Stalfos? His helmet looks kind of grey right now, but it could be golden._

_Why are these two creatures here?_

Seized by curiousity, Link quickly strode toward the two monsters, and saw Arnu following him out of the corner of his eye, while the civilian rescuers stayed where they were, talking to each other in strangely hushed tones. When they reached them, the dozen or so soldiers had already surrounded the monsters, who were standing back to back now with their own weapons drawn, aware of the danger they were in. The Moblin made several short, menacing jabs toward the soldiers, causing the skulls tied to the shaft of his spear to clatter, and the Stalfos raised his own broadsword high: It was clear that the soldiers could not likely attack them without losing one or more of their numbers, so they hesitated.

"I'm still dizzy," the Moblin's spoke with a throaty voice, whether to himself, the Stalfos or the Hylians. "I hate magic. It's things like this."

_It's him all right_, Link thought – voice, armour and weapon all matched the Moblin who had been at the heart of the trouble in Gadrin village. _But what is he doing here?_

"What are you doing here?" one of the soldiers echoed Link's thoughts.

"Oh, I tell you," the Moblin replied. "Just come closer so I can whisper in your ear." He grinned and shook his spear, effecting several muttered curses among the soldiers. But no one seemed to have the courage to attack, and no one shouted any more orders.

"You are Unthok." Arnu stepped past Link and between two soldiers, keeping the same distance to the Moblin as them. "Am I correct?"

"Ohoh, I'm famous," Unthok replied and giggled. "But I don't know you, shadow woman."

"What are you doing here?" Arnu repeated the soldier's question without introducing herself to the Moblin King.

"Hm." Unthok made a contemplative frown, which Link found rather ill-fitting for the brutish creature. "If I tell you, can we leave?"

_He's trying to strike a deal again, just like back then. But she can't let him go!_

"Of course you can't leave," Arnu replied without hesitation. "But if you're cooperative, I'll try to convince these men to make your death a painless one. You have killed far too many people to be allowed to continue living." Her words made Link think that Darion's body count of today must have eclipsed that of the Moblin King by far. But he had also killed two of the men for whom Link had been responsible, and he certainly was not going to voice an objection to his death, no matter how strange his sudden appearance.

"Very funny," Unthok laughed, visibly unfazed by Arnu's threat. "Kill me? These rabbits? They're so scared!"

Several of the soldiers spat at the Moblin and his silent skeletal companion, but made no move, whether they were waiting for Arnu to say something or out of genuine fear.

"I suspect you are somehow connected to Darion," Arnu told Unthok, "and I would like to take you alive so I can confirm it. However, I'm in no position to give orders to these men, so I'll leave it to them."

_Capturing him would be even more dangerous than killing him outright_, Link thought. _They won't try that._

"I'll attack them first," the Stalfos suddenly said. "I'll break a hole through their lines and hold them off while you get away. Just give me the order!"

"Huh? Boneman?" Unthok spoke with audible surprise, but without turning his head to face the Stalfos. "Why so... oh, I get it! You want to die!"

"Isn't buying time for your escape enough to purchase my freedom from you, even if it is only the freedom of death?"

"But I want to keep you!" The Moblin King sounded like a child about to have his favourite toy taken away.

"Are you stupid?" the Stalfos shouted. "Give me the order already! We cannot defeat all of these men!"

"Oh, we see about that," Unthok said with a tone of menacing anticipation. "We kill them all. Now!"

"Just as well," the Stalfos replied with grim satisfaction, and Link cursed under his breath at the Moblin King's audacity when the two monsters dashed in opposite directions and charged the circle of soldiers from within. The men reacted fast and closed in on them, finally shaken out of their inaction by the enemy's sudden move, but could not stop them from breaking out: Unthok collided with two of them, knocking them to the ground, and swung his spear at two others, mowing them down like wheat with a scythe. The Stalfos broke through, too, after almost cleaving a soldier who had tried to stop him in two. Angry, in disarray and without a chain of command, the soldiers launched several uncoordinated attacks, splitting their numbers in half by going after both monsters at the same time, which cost several of them their lives.

_And here we go again_, Link thought, sick and tired of fighting, but unwilling to watch while the other soldiers were being slaughtered. Registering for the first time since yesterday that his sword was still in its scabbard, he drew it and picked Unthok as his chosen enemy. He moved past Arnu, who was watching the fighting with a deep scowl on her face, and began to circle around the Moblin King while he was occupied with the remaining soldiers. Thoroughly disenchanted with the concept of honourable fighting by the events of the past few days, Link did not flinch at the thought of stabbing his enemy from behind; at the very latest, any remaining notion of chivalry in his mind had died with General Thallius.

"I told you so!" Unthok shouted in the general direction of the Stalfos after piercing the waist of an advancing soldier and swinging his body against his comrades like a flail. "They are weak! So weak!"

_I'm sorry I can't save you_, Link thought with a measure of regret as he approached the Moblin King in a half-circle from behind. _But I'll make sure to avenge you. _With all the rubble and stones littering what was once the floor of the Keep, the footing was treacherous, and Link moved slowly, wary to make any noise even over the sounds of battle._._

"Oh, how nice!" Unthok yelled happily. "More! Come faster!" Without taking his eyes of the Moblin King's broad, armoured back, Link knew that the soldiers who had stayed with their rescuers were running through the Keep's remains to join the fight, called into battle by the deaths of their comrades. He was only about five feet away now and held his sword in both hands, ready to plunge it into Unthok's meaty neck as soon as he was within stabbing range.

_Steady now... no shaking or trembling. I have only one chance. If I miss, I'm as good as dead._

Several of the soldiers running toward Unthok suddenly gasped and stared at a point past his head, and some of them even froze in their tracks. Link almost turned around to see what was behind him when he realized that they were looking at him.

_No! These idiots! _was all he could think before the Moblin King turned around, when he was just one step shy of stabbing him, a suspicious look on his piggish face.

"Ohoh!" Unthok thrust his spear at Link with terrifying swiftness and accuracy. "Naughty boy!" Link sidestepped as quickly as he could, but the tip of the spear grazed his side and sent him tumbling to the ground. He hit his head hard on a large piece of rubble, the impact softened only slightly by his hat, and almost passed out. Dull pain spread in the back of his head, but Link still tried to move, to roll to the side and avoid Unthok's next, probably lethal attack, only to feel the Moblin's foot almost crush his chest, cutting off his air and immobilizing him. Unthok chuckled, raised his spear and brought it down in one swift movement.

And vanished into thin air a split second before the spear impaled Link.

_Whoa! What did just happen?_

For several seconds, Link simply lay on the ground and blinked in astonishment. Unthok was gone, disappeared without a trace. The soldiers attacking him were just as stupefied as he was, staring at the spot where the Moblin King had been. Only the sounds of the wounded pierced the sudden silence.

"Don't just stand there!" Arnu was the first to compose her thoughts. "Look after the wounded!" she shouted, and Link saw her moving out of his field of view. He took off his hat and rubbed his head, feeling a slight bump on his scalp that would probably become a nasty bruise, but no blood. He had been lucky.

"Hey, are you all right?"

A middle-aged soldier appeared before Link, wearing a concerned expression on his bearded face. Link grunted in the affirmative and gladly allowed the man to help him get back on his feet.

"Man, where did the monster go?" the soldier asked. "And you almost had him!"

"He almost had me," Link said and put his hat back on. "_Somebody_ gave me away."

"What do you mean, somebody?" Realization came over his face. "Oh, I see." He coughed and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I guess that was pretty stupid of us. We almost got you killed, didn't we? I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Link said. It had not been all right, naturally, but there was no point in holding a grudge now. He looked around and saw at least six bodies lying among the debris, with only two of them moving. Arnu was kneeling down next to one of them, cleaning a deep wound with a piece of cloth while the soldier was biting down on his own arm so as not to scream. The Stalfos Knight, too, had vanished along with the Moblin, Link only now realized, but not without taking the lives of three additional soldiers who were lying a bit farther away.

_It's almost like Darion told these two to stay behind and kill off any soldiers who survived. And where is that piece of dung now, anyway?_

Link suspected that he was not going to get an answer to that question anytime soon and proceeded to walk over to Arnu, who was just putting the finishing touches on a bandage over the wounded soldier's shoulder. His glance passed over several of the fallen on his way, and for some reason, he was not surprised when he saw the young soldier from his old unit among them, a large, bleeding hole in his chest, and his rounded face already turning pale.

_Unthok killed the first of them, and the last_, he thought bitterly, and remembered how the deaths of his first two soldiers at the hands of the Moblin King had infuriated him. Things were different now, and he could barely muster an ounce of anger.

_I guess I'm simply a horrible leader_, he reflected. _I'm pretty sure the commander is not supposed to outlive all of his men._

_Not that there'll be much of a demand for leaders, since the army has pretty much been wiped out. And my little stint in the military would have been over even if it hadn't._

Link arrived at Arnu's location, only to have the old woman rise and walk past him to the second wounded soldier without acknowledging him. He shrugged wordlessly and followed her, treading carefully on the uneven ground, but when they arrived, the soldier kneeling next to the body of his comrade looked up and merely shook his head. Arnu sighed, wiped her bloody hands on her dusty and torn robe, and turned around to face Link.

"Well, well," she said, "what a massacre. And what an exit." She gave Link a wary smile. "You have the devil's own luck."

"Why didn't you do anything to help?" Link did not mean to sound reproachful, but he probably did.

"What do you mean?" Arnu raised an eyebrow.

"Attack them with magic, that's what I mean."

"Ah, yes, my magic." Arnu rolled her eyes. "What would you've had me do? Make flowers sprout out of the ground around Unthok? Find a source of water in a fifty feet radius? Summon a grentle breeze to blow the dust from his armour?" She snorted. "I'm not a battle mage. I do not _do_ fireballs."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Link glanced downward and realized that he had only ever seen Arnu summon a light and a field of silence. After witnessing the Sheikah battle mages in action, he had assumed that all wizards shared the same abilities, which was evidently not the case.

"Hmpf. Maybe you shouldn't be. I admit that it would have been helpful." She rubbed her chin. "Malark offered to train me in combat spells during my time with him, but I respectfully declined. And now he's not around anymore – not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"The Moblin King," Link said, deciding to steer away from the topic of Arnu's competence or lack thereof, "he got away by magic, didn't he?"

"There's no doubt he did," Arnu replied. "But not magic of his own. Somebody summoned him away. Remember, we already knew that he was working with a wizard, way back during the Gadrin incident. Except that I suspected Malark back then, but he has an excellent alibi now."

"Yeah, we really should find out who that wizard is, so I can to express my gratitude for his excellent timing," Link joked.

"We have bigger problems to deal with than just Unthok, I'm afraid," Arnu said gravely. "After all, Darion may still be alive." She turned her head and looked back to where the people who had dug them out of the dungeon were still waiting, talking to each other with agitated gestures, possibly afraid that more monsters would appear.

"This rescue operation is a coordinated effort," Arnu said. "Let's find out who's in charge of the survivors." With that, she turned around and began walking toward their rescuers, slightly lifting up her robe when she stepped over the corpse of a soldier lying in her path. Link followed her, since he, too, wished to find out what had happened to Darion after he had destroyed his own town.

_I still can hardly believe it_, he thought as he beheld the vast expanse of rubble stretching in all directions from the former Keep. _Up to that point, everything he did made a certain kind of sense, but this... why kill his people the second he completes the Triforce?_  
Although he really should have known the instant Darion appeared with the united Triforce, Link only now realized that the two Gerudo women he had met in the Keep's vault had failed to keep the piece they had stolen safe, and probably paid for that failure with their lives.

_I shouldn't have let them keep it. Perhaps none of this would have happened..._

Link abruptly shook his head and refused to follow this train of thought any further: He knew that nothing but guilt and self-loathing would await him if he did.

_What's done is done_, he told himself, and this rather trivial piece of wisdom was reinforced by the utter devastation around him. Pitted against forces like the one that had destroyed this town, his own failures and successes seemed rather insignificant.

_Perhaps it was fate. No, wait, I never used to believe in that!_

During the plague, Link had lost his faith in the three Goddesses, telling himself that caring, loving deities would never allow their creations to suffer in such a manner. Now, afflicted with a scourge many times worse than even the plague had been, he would have loved nothing more than to persist in that lack of faith – but did the existence of the Triforce not prove that the Goddesses were real? After all, the 'power of the gods' must have come from somewhere. There was a certain twisted irony to that train of thought, but Link did not have it in him to appreciate it. He and Arnu arrived at the hole from which they had been rescued, and were immediately beset with questions.

"What the hell happened over there?"

"Where did these monsters come from?"

"And where did they go?"

"You have to ask the soldiers about this," Arnu said once the tempest of inquiring voices had lessened. "They know just as much about it as we do, or as little." Dissatisfied murmuring commenced, until several of the men departed from the group and walked toward the site of the skirmish.

"Now, who's in charge of the survivors?" Arnu asked the remaining people. "Mayor Skyll?"

"The mayor is dead," somebody answered. "She was on main square when the traitor prince descended. Nobody survived there."

"I... see." Link had never met the mayor, but judging from Arnu's slight hesitation, the sage was saddened by her death.

"Some of the other sages survived," a man explained. "They led us northeast, to the small pond just outside of town."

"Yes, I know that place," Arnu said. "It's a good location to gather survivors."

"Most of them are just sitting there, as if they're waiting to die," another man said, and his voice was laced with contempt. "We decided to at least do something useful, and since the traitor prince's voice could be heard everywhere, we knew you'd be in the dungeon. But it sure was hard work to get you out, with almost no tools at all. We had to dig with our hands, for the most part," he added, and presented dirt-stained hands with broken fingernails.

"And you have my sincere gratitude for that," Arnu said. Link hurried to offer his thanks, too, realizing that he had failed to do so before.

"Well, as I said – we needed something to do, anyway. Couldn't just sit on our asses and cry. Though I suppose we have to get back now – we already went over the rest of town with a comb, and there seems to be nobody left to dig out."

"There are some people still looking," Link pointed out. He could see perhaps a dozen isolated shapes wading through the ruined town in the distance, often stopping to bend down and rummage through the rubble.

"They're looking for family and loved ones," another man said. "I reckon we have to drag some of them back once night falls. One of the sages used his magic to probe for survivors, and made an announcement when there was nobody left except for you in the dungeon. But some people still believe they're wrong. They can't be reasoned out of it."

"It's only to be expected, after a cataclysm like this." Arnu scratched her head, then nodded at their rescuers. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be joining up with my fellow sages over at that pond. There is much we have to talk about."

"I'll be coming, too," Link said hastily. Part of him wanted to leave immediately and return to Valhart, to Kari and his few other surviving friends. But first, he had to learn what had happened to Darion.

_Hoping that he died somehow is probably too much to ask._

The two thanked their rescuers again for their efforts, then Arnu led the way toward the northeast. The destroyed town looked just like the Keep, except that most of the rubble was splintered wood, not stone, which made crossing the fields of debris much easier. They remained silent, both of them caught up in their thoughts, until they came upon a middle-aged woman who was digging through the ruined remains of a house. Holding out her bleeding, splinter-ridden palms at the two passersby, she asked them in a desperate tone whether they had seen her children, but Link and Arnu could only shake their heads. The woman nodded, thanked them for their help (which made Link feel awkward, since neither of them had done anything to help) and continued with her fruitless search.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" he asked Arnu, cautious not to sound reproachful.

"What could I do? You heard that man – another sage already probed the whole town and said there was nobody left. Probably Rauru or Kaepora." She continued to walk toward the outskirts of the destroyed town. "I have no reason to doubt their findings."

Link followed her around a pile of detritus. "You don't have any family, Arnu?"

"Haven't had any for quite some time," Arnu replied without turning around. "What about you?"

"I'm... I'm not from Keeptown. But there's nobody left from my family, no."

"Hm. Well, it's better to bury one's parents than the other way round." Arnu stopped and allowed Link to catch up to her, then gave him a wry smile. "That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?"

"Kind of, yes," Link replied. "But it's also true, I think."

"The truth is always harsh," Arnu said in a sagely tone, then rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I just said that." Her words made Link smirk, and he was happy to learn that he was still capable of that. Silence settled in again while they walked, but even though nothing had really changed, that silence did not seem quite as oppressive as before. Even so, Link largely let his eyes trail on the ground while they walked, and only looked up when he heard low, muttered voices in front of him.

"Is this... everyone?" he asked Arnu when he saw the ragged and depressed survivors sitting and lying in the grass around a small pond. He estimated their number at a few hundred, at best – much fewer than he had anticipated.

"It looks like it," the sage replied. "Now let's see... ah, there's a familiar face." She marched past and through the gathered people, stepping over some of the more lethargic ones. Link followed, affixing his eyes to the old woman's back – he had nobody to look for among the survivors, and the dead, empty stares most of them had upset him.

_They're still alive! They can't just give themselves up like this!_

_Maybe they just need a little bit more time, to come to terms with what happened. After all, there was no warning, unlike with people dying from the plague._

The familiar face Arnu saw had recognized her, too, for an old man in a brown robe and with impossibly large eyebrows met her halfway, smiling faintly.

"Arnu! I see my trust in your tenaciousness was not misplaced!"

"Why, I couldn't die yet," she answered. "I have to tell you about what happened yesterday. About Darion... and everything else."

"And I am always happy to learn, as you know – though I doubt any of it will be pleasant." He cast an appraising glance at Link, glanced back. "But first, will you introduce your companion to me?"

"Yes, of course. This young man is named Link. He witness several crucial events in the past weeks – in fact, much of what I'm about to tell you I learned from him." She looked at Link. "This is the Sage of Forest, Kaepora. Sometimes called Kaepora Gaebora, which means 'Kaepora the Wise'."

"I am not deserving of that honorific," Kaepora said in a tone that suggested that he was, in fact, quite deserving of it. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Link."

"Likewise." Link bowed slightly, unsure of what kind of status the sage enjoyed. Then again, with most of the townsfolk dead and the prince an insane mass murderer, what could status still mean?

"What about the other sages?" Arnu asked. Kaepora cast down his eyes and replied:

"Bergen is dead. I found his body in the backyard of his house... or rather, what used to be backyard of what used to be his house. Judging by appearances, it was the shock that killed him, not one of the explosions."

"I see," Arnu said. "He... was an old man."

"Are you perhaps suggesting that it was his time?" Kaepora asked, raising one of his huge eyebrows in a manner Link could not help but find amusing, in spite of the gravity of the subject matter.

"No, of course not. It's just..."

"You are being you, Arnu. I quite understand." Kaepora cleared his throat and continued.

"My dear friend Rauru is alive. He and myself were taking a stroll in the small grove west of town when the calamity occurred – we most assuredly owe our lives to that stroll." He cocked his head. "It was my suggestion, so I shall take credit for our survival." Link could not tell whether he was being serious, but it seemed a definite possibility.

"Which leaves Kasuto," the old man continued. "She survived in a quite wondrous manner, even though her house collapsed around her ears. I suppose the spirits were with her. Humm-humm."

"That woman will outlive us all," Arnu said, "and tell everybody at our funerals that we died on the exact day she predicted."

"That would be quite like her," Kaepora nodded. "Ah, there she comes now. What a coincidence. Perhaps she foresaw your arrival, hmm-humm." Again he made that strange noise, and Link finally realized that it was supposed to be laughter.

_Well, he seems the kind of person to laugh about his own jokes._

Link followed the direction of Kaepora's eyes and saw a woman of about Arnu's age approach them, wearing a blue robe similar in cut to that of their colleagues. Her face was excessively wrinkled, and her nose overly long, which in Link's mind made her the personification of the word 'crone'. She marched past Link without so much as looking at him, shot a short glance at Kaepora, and pointed both of her bony index fingers at Arnu while glaring at her.

"You! Arnu! How dare you show your face around here!"

Arnu herself seemed honestly surprised at her colleague's outburst, assumed a defensive frown and pushed her fingers out of her face.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Kasuto."

"Feigning ignorance, are we? Oh, that's rich. I TOLD YOU SO!"

"Told me what?"

"Death! Destruction! Unfathomable misery! Those were my exact words! Well, I was right, wasn't I? I told you so!"

Looking uncomfortable at his female colleagues, Kaepora tried his best to pacify the old crone. "Kasuto, I beseech you, calm yourself. Your grievances-"

"Be silent, Kaepora! You talk enough as it is. Now it's my turn." The old man withdrew a pace, looking a bit miffed, perhaps at the suggestion that he was long-winded. Hesitant to intervene in a quarrel he knew nothing about, Link continued to watch – and it was not like Arnu needed his help, anyway, at least not in a battle of words.

"I think I understand now," the Sheikah woman said. "It's about that vote, isn't it?"

"Of course it's about that vote!" Kasuto continued to rant. "I foretold death and destruction if the vote came up for war, but no, you just had to go ahead and tip the balance in favour of the prince and his warmongers, even though you know that everything I predict comes true!"

"Now, now, Kasuto, let's not exaggerate," Kaepora said. "The accuracy of your predictions leaves a lot to be desired."

"She has a point," Arnu said before Kasuto could explode in Kaepora's face for doubting her truesight – Link could already tell that this was a sensitive topic for her. "By voting for the mobilization, I helped to hasten the chain of events that led to yesterday's calamity." She closed her eyes and slightly raised her empty palms. "I wish I had a better excuse to offer than 'I believed in Darion', but this is all I can say."

"Hm. Well, at least you see the error of your ways," Kasuto said and held her nose high.

"You have no reason to act superior to Arnu," Kaepora suddenly said with surprising sharpness. "Nor do I. After all, things may have began with that vote, but they didn't end there! We sages were supposed to guide and watch the prince, but did we do it? No, we focused on our various fields of study and trusted him to do the right thing, even though he was an impressionable young man who spent his whole life in the shadow of his father. At least Rauru had the recent death of his son and the care of his grandchildren to deal with, but we who don't have families don't even have that excuse!"

"Well, we all got used to having no say in politics because Malark convened the Council of Sages so rarely," Kasuto defended herself.

"That is true," Kaepora replied, "but we cannot put all the blame for our passivity on Malark's shoulders, as alluring as that thought may be. We failed in our duty, and we have to step up now." He looked at Arnu. "You can begin by telling us all you know about the prince's madness, and the golden power he wielded."

"I intend to," Arnu said. "But shouldn't we summon Rauru, so I don't have to say everything twice?"

"Rauru is not here," Kaepora said with unusual brevity.

"But you said he survived?" Arnu asked.

"Rauru survived, yes. His grandchildren, on the other hand..."

"Oh. I see."

"They had gone out to friends to play when it happened," Kaepora elaborated, "so we did not find them under the remains of his house. Rauru has been looking for them ever since, roaming what is left of the city throughout the night with a magical light. He should know better than that, of course – he knows the same probing spells I do."

"But he said there's a chance for the spells to be wrong, didn't he?" Arnu asked.

"I'm afraid so," Kaepora said, squeezing his eyes with what might have been worry or pity. "I will look for him later, to make sure he did not collapse from exhaustion, but for now, we must give him time to accept things. Do not worry about telling your tale twice; I shall relate it to him." He sighed. "I have been called loquacious before, you know."

Other than that he was a sage, Link did not know anything about this Rauru, but he suspected that right now, he was in the same state of mind as the woman he and Arnu had met on their way here: Deep denial and blind, baseless hope. Without knowing him, he pitied him.

"I will begin, then," Arnu said. "Let me first tell you about the Triforce." She continued to bring her colleagues up to speed in regards to everything she knew about the Triforce and Darion's ambition, and asked Link to relate his own stories of what had happened in Goron City and Zora's Domain on Darion's orders. Kasuto gasped on occasion, especially during the more gruesome parts of Link's tale, which he recounted with the cold precision of indelible memory, while Kaepora listened to them without comment, merely lifting his eyebrows or cocking his head at a dangerous-looking angle now and then.

"And then we were banished into the dungeon and heard the sounds of explosions above," Link finished. "We did not get to see the destruction of the city itself."

"I saw it from afar, and it was a terrible spectacle to behold," Kaepora said gravely, without elaborating on the details. Link decided that he did not really have to know, that being curious about it would actually be giving credit to Darion in some twisted way. Arnu seemed to think the same, or perhaps she simply did not care.

"Are these all of the survivors?" Link asked Kaepora with a sweeping gesture. "Other than the ones still looking for their families?"

"I am afraid so," the old man replied. "A tentative headcount places them just short of three hundred."

"Three... hundred," Link whispered. _That's less than Valhart, even after the worst of the plague._

"For your information, the census from six years ago placed the town's population at twelve thousand," Kaepora volunteered.

"The plague claimed the lives of approximately four thousand," Arnu said dryly. "If you want to know how many people Darion killed, just do the math. And don't forget to add about a thousand soldiers to that number."

"That would be nine thousand people," Kasuto said. "I would have to see far into the future to see a cataclysm greater than that. In fact-"

"Thanks for the detail," Link said, though he did not actually feel grateful. In fact, although he had seen the results of the destruction for himself, and nine thousand was a mere number, the sheer magnitude of Darion's crimes shook him to the core of his being.

"And he's still out there," he whispered. "Isn't he?"

"Witnesses saw him escaping due south," Kaepora said, "laughing and screaming with the Triforce following behind. They thought him a terrible demon and dared not pursue him."

"Perhaps they're not far off the mark with that assessment," Arnu said and shook her head. "In spite of all we have learned, the answer to one question still eludes us: Why did Darion do this?"

"I cannot answer that question," Kaepora replied. "But the people who saw him investigated where he had come from and found something gruesome within the remains of the Keep. It was the body of King Artaxis, lying just outside of the crypt, with a sword wound in his chest."

"You mean he dragged his dead father out of there only to stab him?" Arnu blinked repeatedly. "That's definitely insane."

"I don't think that's what happened," Link said. "After all, he had the Triforce with him. He might just have-"

"That would be blasphemy!" Kasuto shrieked. "The dead belong to the realm of the spirits!"

"My parents died a few weeks ago," Link said and shrugged. "From a grieving son's point of view, it seems like a natural thing to do."

"But why ressurrect him, only to kill him?" Arnu asked. "That's even more insane."

"We may never be able to answer that question," Link said. "And there is a more important question than that," he added. "Where is Darion now?"

"I have asked the spirits where he went," Kasuto said with a hint of embarassment, "but I'm afraid the future was clouded."

Her words effected a bitter laugh in Arnu. "Yes, it's clouded indeed. No, I'm not mocking you – not right now, at least. What I mean is, as long as Darion lives, our future remains clouded. If he feels like it, he can snuff all of us out at any moment."

Kaepora cleared his throat. "Which begs the slightly morbid question: Why has he not done that yet?"

"Perhaps he collapsed during his flight," Link suggested. "Or he lost his mind completely and forgot all about us."

"The prince escaped due south," Kaepora repeated, "but the stables were destroyed along with the town, so we have no horses to give pursuit. Not that chasing him would be anything other than suicide for the pursuers."

"So we can do nothing?" Link asked.

"We can only pray to the Goddesses to deliver us from this evil," Kasuto intoned, which earned her a critical glance from and Arnu. "What kind of stupid attitude is that?" she asked. Kasuto was about to make a no doubt biting retort when Kaepora intervened.

"We must not bicker like we used to!" he said. "We have a greater responsibility now! For all intents and purposes, the four of us are the rulers of Hyrule now, at least until Prince Kyrus comes of age."

Link opened his mouth in surprise when he heard these words, and almost slapped himself when he realized that the fourth person Kaepora was talking about was their absent colleague Rauru, not the young man in green who was just tagging along with Arnu.

_Ruler of Hyrule, yeah, right_, he chided himself for his childish thought._ My involvement in this affair has definitely gone to my head._

"Speaking of Prince Kyrus, wasn't he moved to the North Garrison?" Arnu asked. "That's where Zelda is, too," she added with a hint of sadness. Link did not know much about the fate of Darion's younger sister, only that she had fallen victim to some kind of accident involving magic and was not responsive.

"Then perhaps we should go to this North Garrison," Link suggested. "You can't govern from here, after all." Under different circumstances, his offering advice to the rulers of Hyrule might have been assuming, but he knew Arnu fairly well by now, and Kaepora and Kasuto were odd figures in their own right, certainly not concerned with things like status and rank.

"That idea isn't half-bad," Arnu said. "In fact, I might just have suggested it myself if you hadn't beaten me to it."

"Uh... sorry," Link said and offered her a sheepish grin.

"Prince Darion withdrew most of the soldiers from there shortly after the king's death." Kaepora frowned, but it was a contemplative frown, not a critical one.

"That's probably because they were no longer needed to guard the portal leading to the Sacred Realm," Arnu suggested.

"Yes, indeed. But I recall that a small attachment of knights was still stationed there even after the withdrawal. They can serve us as messengers, and the structures there as our base of operations."

"Structures?" Kasuto asked. "As in, buildings? Yes, please! I don't want to spend another night under the sky – it's hell for my rheumatism."

"I'm afraid it'll be at least a day's march," Arnu destroyed her colleague's dream of sleeping under a roof tonight. "Probably two, given that we aren't young anymore."

"I am still quite spry, thank you very much," Kaepora corrected her. "I take at least two long strolls every week." He raised a pair of fingers. "Two!"

"Well, that changes everything," Arnu said in a mocking tone. "I'm sure you'll fly across Hyrule Field like a bird."

"Humm, like a bird indeed," Kaepora said, pleased with himself. "Actually, bird-watching is one of my favourite pastimes."

"How interesting," Arnu said. "I didn't know that."

"I am particularly fond of the great owls that can be found in the groves south and west from here," Kaepora said, and his usually dry voice suddenly carried great enthusiasm. "They look so majestic! So... scholarly!"

Link shook his head. _I'm sure glad they're taking their new duties so seriously and aren't getting sidetracked_, he thought. _But we have to deal with Darion! That's what's important now!_

"What will happen to us?" a voice suddenly called out, and Link and the sages turned around to face the speaker. Only then did they realize that, completely unnoticed by them, most of the previously lethargic survivors had gathered around them at a respectful distance and listened to their deliberations in utter silence. The three sages, so rudely interrupted in their conversation about ornithology, became aware of their surroundings again.

"Ahem," Kaepora said, and his eyes cast nervous glances toward the listeners. "I am glad to see that all of you have taken such a keen interest in our deliberations." Link nodded wordlessly at the sage's words – perhaps the people had taken the sages' agitated discussion as a signal of renewed leadership and gained hope where there had been none before.

"It is always good to listen to the voice of the people, I suppose," Kaepora continued, clearly not very comfortable with speaking in public. "So, uh... what was your question again?"

"What will happen to us?"

"Where are we supposed to live?"

"You can split up and move to the neighbouring villages!" Arnu called out. "I'm sure they'll welcome you – they have all taken great losses from the plague."

"We're townsfolk!" someone shouted. "We can't live in villages!"

_What's so bad about living in a village? _Link wondered, but found that many others voiced their agreement, and did so verbosely.

"We're coming with you!"

"You can't turn us away!"

"We'll move to the north!"

"You seem to misunderstand!" It took Kaepora a while to make himself heard over the chants of 'new town'. "The North Garrison isn't a city. It's just a couple of buildings and watchtowers!"

"Then we'll turn it into a city!"

"There are carpenters among us! We can build new houses!"

Kaepora and his colleagues looked at each other in varying degrees of surprise.

"I... I didn't know having a city was that important to you."

"We need a place to hold markets!" someone cried.

"I'm a shopkeeper! I won't have any business in a village!"

"Hyrule needs a real capital!"

_Why are they so interested now?_ Link wondered. _Why didn't they say anything when we talked about Darion, and the Triforce? Aren't these matters much more important for their survival? Not that we can do anything about him right now, but..._

Link realized the simple truth in this line of thought: There was nothing they could do about Darion right now. The people around them, whether they had listened to Arnu's explanation about the Triforce or not, had understood that from the beginning; ever since he used an unspeakable power to destroy their town.

_For them, it's all in the hands of the Goddesses, which means they don't have to worry about it, for good or ill. Where they'll live, and how they'll make a living, that's what they want to know. And perhaps they really couldn't live in a village – none of them are peasants. They probably wouldn't even know how to push a plough._

"Well... I do believe their request has merit," Kaepora told his colleagues. "But the question of food must be addressed. The garrison should have ample storerooms, but the people simply cannot walk for two days without nourishment."

"We'll make a stopover at the closest village to the north," Arnu said. "They won't deny us a meal, not after learning what happened here."

"Once we've arrived, we'll have to hold elections for a new mayor," Kaepora added. "Ah, so many things to plan..."

"I must say, I like this idea," Kasuto chimed in. "I can already see the prosperity and grandeur the future has in store for this new town!"

"And to think that none of us thought about this on our own!" Kaepora exclaimed. "Fine sages we are. This should be a reminder that wisdom does not rest with us alone."

"Yes," Link agreed. "And we should be happy that they're already thinking about rebuilding." _But I'm still thinking about Darion,_ he added in his mind. _What good will this new town be if he just destroys it again? Even if looks like there's nothing we can do – we have to think of something!_

While Link was brooding about various approaches to finding and killing Darion, the sages mingled with the townsfolk and began making preparations for the march to the north. Several fleet-footed young men were sent ahead to prepare the garrison for the survivors' arrival, while others returned to the ruined city to bring the last remaining searchers back into the fold, so their departure would not be delayed too long. A decision was made to set the wooden remains of Keeptown on fire, so as not to leave the honoured dead to rot – many winced at the thought of not having a proper burial for them, but digging up and burying thousands of corpses was simply out of the question.

Meanwhile, surviving craftsmen and artisans, their thoughts already with the new town up north, used sticks to draw rough floor plans for new buildings into the soil, and two young men even began a half-serious campaign for the office of the mayor. The enthusiasm was almost unreal, and at least partially a simple coping mechanism, but it worked, and that was that.

Although he approved of it all, Link only took superficial notice of the planning and organizing around him – he was not going to stay in the new town, anyway. Perhaps he could talk the small group of knights Kaepora had mentioned into helping him hunt down Darion? Surely, a knife to the heart while he slept, and two strong arms keeping his hands away from the Triforce while he died would be enough to kill him.

_But in order to kill him, we have to find him first. Depending on whether Darion wants to be found, that will either be very hard or very easy._

_I wonder where he is, and what he's doing right now. And whether he feels even the slightest hint of remorse for what he has done._


	33. Tapeworm's Reign

**Chapter 33: Tapeworm's Reign**

Even for a man who had always preferred the seclusion of his windowless study and the artificial, magical light he used to illuminate it, the warm rays of the sun on his skin were a most welcome feeling – largely because he had not been able to feel anything at all in the past weeks. For him who had narrowly escaped the call of the grave into a prison of flesh that was not his own, even the soreness of his feet, the dryness of his eyes and the numbness of his limbs was a most welcome change compared to the time spent as a powerless parasite living in a host who despised him, and whom he despised.

Malark finally had a body to call his own again.

He opened his eyes and saw the coloured foliage of trees above, punctuated by the sunbeams that were now tickling his strangely soft skin. He was lying on his back in the soft soil of a small grove that was utterly silent except for the melodic singing of birds in the branches above. He was wearing an unfamiliar white robe, stained with earth and blood and torn in several places, and a sheathed sword was fastened to the simple brown belt he wore.

_I don't really like white_, Malark thought idly. _It stands for 'purity of heart' – hardly fitting._ He groaned and blinked rapidly in order to moisten his dried up eyes. _But until I can have a change of wardrobe, it will have to do._

A rustling sound on his left made Malark turn his head, and he saw that a squirrel had descended from one of the trees and was inspecting the strange new arrival in its grove from a respectful distance, making annoying squirrel-noises. Obeying an instinctive need to remove that which annoyed him, he focused his mind in the familiar manner and moved the fingers of his right hand in a fashion suitable to make the rodent burst into flame. To his disappointment, however, nothing happened.

_What in the blazes? That's an initiate spell! I should be able to do this in my sleep!_

Again Malark performed the gesture for the spell, and again nothing happened. Then it occurred to him that his new body was dissimilar from his old one, and that his muscle memory had not carried over, ruining the precision of his finger movements. He attempted to compensate for that during his third attempt, with the result that a rain of sparks exploded a few inches away from the squirrel. Unharmed, but startled, the rodent ran off and disappeared behind a tree and out of sight, spared from a quick, fiery death.

_Curse these clumsy fingers,_ Malark thought. _A bit of a readjustment will be required. It's a good thing I'm so adaptive._

Still feeling slightly dull from his loss of consciousness (and how long had that lasted, anyway?), Malark decided to get up, and was surprised about the ease with which he got to his feet, even with this unfamiliar body. It was taller than his old one, and more muscular, and it lacked the general creaking and aching of old age that had become increasingly bothersome over the past few decades. He waved his arms around and shook his feet to get a general feeling for his limbs, followed by a few short finger exercises while assessing his surroundings.

When Malark turned around to see what was behind him, he looked into a golden, polished surface, and beheld the mirror image of a youthful face framed with short brown hair.

_So this is my face now? Hmm. I always thought it looked kind of bland. _The admitted shallowness of this thought almost immediately gave way to the realization just what mirror Malark was staring into: It was the Triforce, floating at head's height, its golden shine masked by the radiant afternoon sun. Triggered by the sight of the coveted triangles, the memory of what had happened in the hours before this body had passed out returned to Malark, and he was overcome with elation.

_It worked! Bless all the demons of hell, it worked! And that idiot danced to my tune every single step on the way!_

Well, perhaps not every single step, Malark conceded to himself. In fact, events outside of his control had forced him to improvise several times: For the first time when his body had been torn apart from the inside thanks to that recalcitrant princess, and then again when Darion had been spirited away from certain defeat during their encounter inside his mind. His already improvised plan to take control of the prince's body had failed then, and forced Malark to come up with a new, audacious plan – one which had succeeded against all odds.

_Oh, what a gamble it was. _Malark still shuddered when he thought about how close he had come to oblivion back on that tower, when only lucky circumstance had saved him from being extinguished. _What a ridiculously improbable gamble._

Pushing Darion to get the Triforce as fast as possible, to use any means necessary to acquire its parts, and to even help him with his knowledge and lend him the support of his most capable servant... all while telling him that the ends justified the means, that subordinates were there only to be used, and that there was not a single living being he could trust in the whole wide world. Malark had used his unique position to subtly undermine Darion's peace of mind and ultimately his sanity, all in the hope that the prince would break down before he got the Triforce and wiped out his unwanted guest.

_But the gamble was the only viable option left to me. If I had allowed Darion to become comfortable in his new position and build a support network to overcome my mental influence, he would not have been so pliable. I could only hasten events along at breakneck speed and egg him on – and it worked in the end!_

When Darion had finally reunited the Triforce, the wind he had sown at Malark's advice was already coming back as a whirlwind, and with his own army marching on Keeptown, his wild fantasy that everybody was against him had become the truth. From that point on, Malark had only had to watch in silence, drawing no attention to himself, while Darion destroyed his own army, undoing himself in the process. And when his own people had so brutally tried to kill him – the people for whom he had been doing all this, or so he had been telling himself – his paranoia had reached untold heights, and his father's words, condemning the son for destroying his legacy, had been the thing to push him over the edge into insanity.

_And to think that the father's fear of death at his son's hands came true after all! The irony is so thick, it almost makes me believe in a guiding hand of fate._

With glee, Malark remembered watching Darion's mind rapidly come apart at the seams as he had fled the devastated city due south, laughing and crying at the same time, finally seeing with unmatched clarity just what he had done – and _completely failing_ to realize that he could have undone it all with a single sentence! After a few hours of running and screaming and cursing the day he was born, the prince had finally collapsed in this very grove, and his soul had withdrawn from his body, allowing the spirit within to claim it as his own.

_But is he truly gone? _Malark's elation was disrupted by a feeling of apprehension. _Or has he only gone into hiding?_

Utilizing the heightened self-awareness of one who had overcome death by switching bodies, Malark probed the deepest recesses of his mind, looking for any sign of a foreign presence, no matter how small. And eventually, he found him – a withdrawn mental speck of dust, shivering with boundless self-loathing and despair. He made no attempt to wrestle control over his body back from Malark – he might not even be aware of having lost control in the first place, dwelling in a pocket universe furnished with horrors of his own making.

_A coward to the end, eh, Darion? You're clinging desperately to this life, even though you have forfeited it even by your own standards?_

There was no answer, no acknowledgement of the new situation, only the silent presence of the fallen prince, connected to its old body by a gossamer mental thread. But even his abject passivity was enough to spoil Malark's mood.

_I cannot allow him to maintain even the tiniest shred of self! If ever he pieces together his shattered soul, he could drive me back into the shadows of his mind. I cannot permit that._

But what could Malark do? He would have loved to perform the Sheikah ritual of confrontation again, drag Darion out from his hiding place and put him out of his misery, but even with the needed reagents (which would be easy enough to acquire), the ritual could only be performed once per person – at least according to ancient Sheikah lore.

_I'm an idiot!_ Malark thought with a short, barking laugh. _Darion must have rubbed off on me._ He allowed himself a thin smile and put his hand against the smooth surface of the Triforce. _Why bother with conventional magic and all its cumbersome limitations when the power of the gods is right in front of me?_

"Triforce," he said aloud, and hesitated when he heard Darion's unimpressive voice instead of his own. _I have to get used to that_, he thought. _No, actually, I don't. Restoring my old voice can be the second wish. But now to eliminate Darion._

"Triforce," he repeated, "purge Darion's soul from this body!"

Nothing happened, or at least, nothing overt: His body was not enveloped with light, nor did the Triforce send out a golden beam to cleanse him, nor any other visible sign that Malark's wish had been fulfilled.

_I don't care_, he thought. _The power of the gods needn't be flashy or spectacular. It only has to obey me._

But when Malark probed his mind again, the faint presence of Darion was still there, wallowing in blind self-pity.

_What's the meaning of this? Why isn't he – bah, he must be already gone, and I'm only feeling an afterimage. _It was not a very satisfactory explanation, but it was better than the alternative.

_Very well, something different then! Something visible, to erase all doubts!_

"Triforce, heed my words! Turn day into night and let darkness cover the land!"

Malark expected the sun to roll back in its path and disappear beyond the horizon – but nothing happened. Nothing at all. He cried out in frustration, clenched his fists and said in a demanding tone that brooked no disobedience:

"Triforce! Explain yourself!"

As if in compliance with his demand, the Triforce's ethereal voice responded to Malark.

"I am the Essence of the Triforce."

"I know that," he snarled. "I am Malark, delighted to meet you. Now tell me why you won't obey me!"

"The Triforce will fulfill its master's every wish for as long as he is alive," the voice replied. "And the old master still lives," it added as a matter of fact. Malark could not believe his ears. "Are you telling me I you won't obey me as long as there's still a piece of Darion inside me?" he asked.

"It is as you say," the essence replied calmly.

Malark could not help but laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. He could not command the Triforce without destroying Darion's soul, but he could not destroy it without commanding the Triforce first. If there really was a guiding hand of fate, it was playing a devious game with him.

_This has to be a joke, and a very bad one!_

Seething with anger, Malark needed something to vent his frustration on. He tried to set the trees around him on fire, but even though he got the finger movements right after several attempts, his rage prevented the necessary concentration, and he produced little more than sparks. Many decades ago, he had been a battle mage, trained to remain calm and focused even in the heat of combat – a necessary requirement for casting even the most basic spells. He had not allowed his emotions to hinder his magic for the better part of a century, and his failure to contain them now made things even worse. Feeling utterly humiliated, Malark turned around and trudged toward the edge of the grove.

As soon as he had made his first step, he saw the Triforce follow him out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you mocking me?" Malark shouted. "I thought you didn't obey me! Why follow me, then?"

"The Triforce is not following you. It follows the master, in accordance with his wish."

Malark groaned at the Triforce's mindless obedience to a disembodied idiot and stopped at the edge of the grove in order to collect his thoughts and regain a measure of calm. No matter how frustrated he was right now, he was not going to simply walk away and leave the power of the gods behind – not that he could have left it behind even if he wanted to.

_Where there's a will, there's a way_, he told himself._ I'm going to make the Triforce obey me, and if it's the last thing I ever do!_

"Just to make sure there's no misunderstanding," Malark asked with a level voice after composing himself. "If Darion's soul leaves this body, you will obey me? You won't split again, or vanish, or anything of the sort?"

"That is correct."

Suspicious of hidden loopholes, Malark asked further. "What if somebody touches the Triforce after Darion's soul dies, but before I can claim it?"

"In such a case, since you share the body of the master, you shall enjoy absolute privilege, no matter who touches the Triforce first. Your wishes, and only yours, will be fulfilled for as long as you are alive."

Satisfied with that answer, Malark vowed to find a way of removing Darion's soul from his body and mind, no matter how long it might take – after all, he now had a healthy young body at his disposal that would last him for a century or longer. Eager to regain his mastery of magic, he resumed working on gestures with hands and fingers, hurrying through the memorized lessons of his youth and recapitulating the spells he had learned so long ago. After two hours of non-stop spellcasting, he had regained command of the elements as well as basic healing magic and teleportation – and he was nowhere near exhausted yet! His old body would have demanded a break after one hour at the latest.

_Not everything about this new development is bad,_ he thought with a satisfied smile. _And thanks to Darion, the power base of the Hylians is utterly broken, so they won't be able to sabotage my designs. Not that they'll dare – the Triforce still follows me, and I will leave them under the impression that I command it, should I ever be seen. They don't need to know who I really am, either – I'll only reveal myself when the time is right._

As a final test of his relearned abilities, Malark summoned a fireball as large as his head between his hands, and with an almost casual movement flung it against the trunk of the closest tree. The tree burst into flames, and the fire quickly climbed up to the branches and leaves and jumped to the neighbouring trees. Malark unleashed more of the fiery orbs as fast as he could conjure them, and within a minute, the entire grove was ablaze. Satisfied with his work, he teleported himself beyond the small wood's edge and indulged in the pleasure of watching the flames feed on the trees, their beautiful red flickering reflected in the polished surface of the Triforce.

_All of Hyrule shall burn like this once the power of the gods is mine. And from the ashes shall arise the Shadow People reborn, to take their rightful place in the world._

Feeling truly content for the first time in quite a while, even in spite of his failure to control the Triforce, Malark waited until the fire had died down, enjoying the searing heat and the spectacle of the dancing flames. For a moment then he felt the temptation to teleport to Keeptown, or what was left of it, for the sole purpose of revelling in the misery of the survivors there. But of course he knew better than to take such a risk – he remembered what a single stray arrow or a knife could do to this new body, and while his healing magic could cure even serious wounds, it still had its limits. Some risks were necessary, he knew only too well, while others were simply foolish.

_I wasted enough time on my amusement_, he chided himself. _Now I must get to work. Somewhere in this world, there is bound to be a way to erase what's left of Darion. It's merely a question of looking in the right place..._

Seized by a sudden revelation, Malark let out an elongated sigh and shook his head, marvelling at his own slow-wittedness.

_Why, of course... the old Sheikah archives hidden deep within the Spirit Temple! The records in Kakariko must be like the diary of a child next to that wellspring of knowledge!_

He had never been to the giant statue that housed the Spirit Temple – how could he, with the place hidden deep within the hostile desert, guarded by the Gerudo rabble, and he himself kept on a leash by the King of Hyrule – a long leash, but a leash still. But he had been told about it by a small, secretive group of Sheikah traditionalists who had taken a young, stupid battle mage named Malark under their wings long ago and revealed to him the secret history of their people. He recalled that history now.

Eight hundred years ago, the ruling caste of the Gerudo, a group who called themselves Sheikah – 'the ones of the right' – had been the first in all of Hyrule to discover the arcane arts of magic. Turning the inside of a colossal statue of the Gerudo Sand Goddess into the centre of their studies, their mastery of the art quickly reached untold heights. After biding their time for a few decades, they unleashed their might on the Hylians, who had waged war with the Gerudo before, in the hope of conquering parts of the fertile plains of Hyrule Field for their people.

But the ancient Sheikah had been overconfident, dazzled by their own power, and had ignored their vulnerability against the Hylians' primitive, but lethal bronze weapons. Losses had mounted quickly; losses that the small number of elite mages could ill afford, and once their counter-offensive had led the Hylian army into the desert, the Gerudo of the lower castes had overwhelmed their rulers during the night and sold them out to the Hylians in exchange for a peace treaty. Their treachery marked the beginning of slavery for the Sheikah, who were forcefully resettled in a heavily guarded village at the foot of Death Mountain, far away from the lands of their birth. At the pains of death, they taught the Hylians their magic – but never all of it.

Shortly before their abduction, some of the Sheikah elders had managed to seal the archives that contained a complete record of all their magical research behind a complicated spell, so as to deprive the Hylians of their most potent secrets. Claiming that this knowledge had been lost, they withheld it from their slavemasters, and passed down the knowledge of this awesome hoard of magic only to a selected few, and so it had reached Malark, long ago.

He had never been able to make much use of that knowledge – after all, the ancient Sheikah had still lost against a much more primitive Hylian army, and Malark was but one man, unable to fight a war on his own, even if he had been in the possession of most powerful magic. Now, however, he had an excellent reason to visit these archives, for if there was another way to exorcise an unbidden guest in one's mind, the ancient Sheikah surely had known.

_Now all I have to do is gain entrance into the temple. How can I accomplish that?_

Malark knew very little about the Gerudo of today, but he had to assume that they held a grudge against Hylians for the treatment of their king, if not for the containment of their whole race. So if Malark were to reveal his true identity, and told them that it was his goal to destroy what was left of Hylian dominance over the land, they might just roll out the red carpet for him and support him against their common enemy.

_But they might also not_, he cautioned himself. _If memory serves, their king was a bit of a misguided idealist. He might just give me a speech about world peace and send me away. _

_Oh, and he also knows I tried to have him killed. Hm, what to do..._

_I will make the Gerudo an offer_, Malark decided. _If they have any objections, they can talk them over with my escort._

_An escort I have yet to organize. But that shouldn't take too long._

Malark closed his eyes and envisioned a place far to the north, beyond the remains of Keeptown and even beyond the North Garrison. He had only been there two or three times during the last eleven years, but he had an excellent memory and recalled the forested mountain area with its numerous and large caves with sufficient detail to dare a teleport across the better part of Hyrule Field. He took a deep breath, relaxed his mind and muscles (teleportation could go horribly wrong if one was not focused enough, though the chances for that were slim), imagined himself at his destination and performed the required gesture. The scorched grove vanished and was replaced by a wide cave entrance on a woody mountain plateau. The air was a bit thinner up here, but not by much, and Malark's young body adapted quickly to its new surroundings. A quick glance to his side reassured him that the Triforce had traveled with him, as per Darion's standing orders to follow him everywhere.

"Come out, you beasts!" Malark shouted toward the cave entrance, and though he still could not stand Darion's voice, he liked the fact that it carried his words far and wide without the need for magical amplification. "The master of your master calls you!"

He did not have to wait long in front of the entrance before half a dozen large, hulking creatures came running out of the cave, staring at the new arrival with their small eyes and talking to each other in their grunting language. One of them raised a long lance and charged Malark with a guttural battlecry, but was quickly put into his place when the wizard showered him with a rain of sharp ice shards from above. The creature howled in pain and retreated back into the cave, bleeding from dozens of wounds on its back and limbs, and its fellow monsters laughed at him every step on the way.

_Moblins,_ Malark thought with habitual disdain._ There's always one who tries something stupid._

"Where is Unthok?" he called out, addressing all of the remaining Moblins at once; this way, there was a greater chance of getting an answer that would get him anywhere. After a short conference in their incomprehensible language, the smallest Moblin was charged with giving an answer to Malark

"Unthok not here," he said in a meaningful tone that promised a great revelation.

_I should have expected that. He was probably close to Keeptown when the Stalfos delivered the Triforce piece, and couldn't have made it back here even if he ran all the way._

"You look different," the small Moblin said (of course small was relative, as he was still taller than Malark's new body). "Younger."

_My, how observant_, Malark thought. "Wizards age backwards," he said aloud. "We grow younger over time."

The Moblin's snout opened wide. "Wow. I didn't know that."

_But not very smart. Oh well, enough fun and games and on to business._

"I will recall... I'll bring Unthok here," Malark announced. "I'll have to concentrate, so be silent. And don't come near me, or I'll have the ground swallow you." The Moblins grunted in the affirmative, but just to be sure none of them would do something stupid without him knowing, Malark placed a quick alarm ward with a fifteen-feet radius around himself and closed his eyes. A long-distance recall spell targeted at a person in an unknown location would probably take some doing, and he regretted that his personalized spellsphere was lying in Darion's chamber, or what was left of it.

_I wonder what happened if that sphere broke, _he thought, but chose to concentrate on his spell. After a minute of combing Hyrule Field with an autonomous probing spell, which was akin to a blind man dragging a rake across a field over and over again, trying to catch a small stone in its teeth, he found Unthok's signature and initiated the recall spell proper. The act of teleporting the Moblin King strained Malark's strength considerably, which made him suspect that Unthok was still holding on to his Stalfos 'tool'.

Accompanied by several gasps and even a short round of applause by his watching subjects (clapping Moblins were among the funnier things Malark had seen in a while), Unthok appeared in front of the cave entrance, five feet from the wizard. As expected, his skeletal slave appeared with him. Unthok was raising his spear and brought it down hard just as he appeared, as if he had been in the process of stabbing a man lying on the ground, and the fact that his weapon only pierced the soil confused him visibly. His armour was grey with dust and sported several large red spots – not his own blood, most likely. The Stalfos' sword was blooded, too, leaving no doubt that Malark had summoned them right out of a fight.

_Work before pleasure_, he thought with a mental shrug when he saw the disappointed look on Unthok's face. _That goes for you, too, my servant._

"Hey!" Unthok had recognized him and made several steps toward him, keeping a short, but noticeable distance. "I hate it when you do that."

"You said that before," Malark replied dismissively; he had little tolerance for Unthok's complaints right now. "I have work for you. If you're lucky, you may even get to kill people."

"I was killing people, right now," Unthok griped. "And that naughty boy... Hmpf. You saved him."

"Do I look like I give a damn? You can play after you've finished the job I have for you."

Unthok shook his head. "I wasn't playing. I was fighting. And it was because of you!" He groaned and rubbed his large head in a manner that would have indicated a headache if a Hylian had done it. "The crystal ball broke."

"The spellsphere?" Malark nodded to himself, understanding what Unthok meant: The spellsphere that had contained the personalized recall spell must have been broken when the Keep had been destroyed, spilling its gaseous contents, summoning Unthok and his slave into Darion's ruined chamber.

"We were stuck in a dark much air. Then the ceiling broke down and a stone fell on my head!" Unthok made a sound of unmistakable dismay. "We had to dig real long." His face changed into a grin. "But then there was fighting. So in the end it was good."

"I am always happy to provide you with entertainment," Malark said and glanced at the Stalfos, who was staring at him with his usual mix of despair and disgust, but would make no move without Unthok's order.

"Anyway, I'm so happy to see you again, little prince," the Moblin King said and pointed at Malark's waist. "Hey wizard. You still in there?" His words made Malark realize that Unthok did not know about his complete takeover of this body.

"Quit making a fool of yourself, Unthok," he said. "That arrangement is in the past. This body is wholly mine now. I won't be explaining why."

"Oh, I don't care," Unthok said happily. "But I like proof."

"I summoned you without a spellsphere, you insufferable idiot," Malark said, "isn't that proof enough?"

"Hm. Fine. Yes."

"Then let me cut to the chase." Malark was unsure whether Unthok understood this particular idiom, but the Moblin King was smarter than he looked and could probably deduce it. "How many of your Moblins live in this area and can be assembled, armed and ready for a longer march, by tomorrow morning?"

"What? Are we going on a raid?"

"Something like that," Malark replied, "except bigger. How many?"

"Hm. We have this cave. And the other one. And the big cave at the river. And..." Unthok was using his fingers now, fully absorbed in the task of making a headcount of his people. "Three hundred," he said after a short while. "A few more, maybe."

"That should be enough," Malark said, although he did not actually have a clue how many Gerudo there were in the desert, nor how many were guarding the Spirit Temple. But Moblins had enormous strength and stamina, and if the Gerudo proved uncooperative, Malark had no doubt that Unthok's minions would be able to defeat any number of the desert savages.

_If they have even the tiniest amount of intelligence, they will gladly join me, and share in my revenge against the Hylians. But I'd rather be safe than sorry._

"Gather your Moblins, then," Malark told Unhok. "Tell them to bring weapons, food, and lots and lots of water. We're going into the desert."

"The desert again?" Unthok asked. "Nice! Maybe I can-"

"There will be no detours," Malark cut him off. "You're going where I tell you to. Once we're done and I dismiss you, you can do whatever you want."

"Hrm. You're boring, wizard," Unthok said, then shouted several commands in his language to the five waiting Moblins who had listened to their conversation, although how much they had understood, Malark could not guess. The Moblins grunted quick confirmations and left the plateau in different directions, one of them returning into the cave from where they had come.

"Question," Unthok said now that he had given his orders and pointed at the Triforce floating next to Malark. "Is this yours?"

"Try to touch it and you'll be a charred skeleton," he growled in reply. "Make sure to communicate that to your men as well." While Malark had been assured by the Essence that the Triforce would not currently work for anybody except the withdrawn Darion, he was not going to take the tiniest chance, especially not with a dangerous subordinate such as Unthok.

"Bah. I don't even want it." He made a dismissive gesture. "I'm already strong. 'Power of the gods'? That's no fun."

Unthok's words surprised Malark and reminded him once again that the Moblin King was not to be underestimated. "You know about it?" he asked and tried not to let his surprise show too much.

"I asked boneman. He told me. He knows lots of things." Unthok giggled. "Funny, because he has no brain."

"_He_ knew about it?" Malark asked and pointed at the Stalfos, who was still watching, still glaring. Now that he thought about it, it was not entirely implausible – after all, his helmet marked him as a former Hylian general. After a moment's introspection, Malark remembered that the Hylian army commander Belemor had died during the battle near Gadrin village – so this was him? This was Belemor? And the old fool of a king had told even him about the Triforce while he was still alive, decades before his head of sages and chief advisor?

_What does it matter? Only a slave is proud of the trust his master places in him._

Thinking about this made Malark wonder, and not for the first time, why the old king had suddenly insisted in taking him along into the Sacred Realm, after decades of not quite trusting him enough for that. But as always when he asked himself that question, he shrugged and dismissed it as academical. It had happend, and he was glad that it had happened, and that would be enough.

Malark's eyes returned to Belemor one more time, and he realized with amusement that the general, who in life had shared most people's instinctive dislike of Malark, was not even able to recognize him now, since he wore the body of a man born years after Belemor's death, and Unthok only referred to him as 'wizard'.

_Well, it certainly seems he's making an excellent slave for Unthok, even in death. Which suggests that all Hylians might be excellent slaves. That's good to know for the future._

"So he told you what the Triforce is." Malark's attention returned to Unthok and the strange claim he had made. "And even knowing about it, you say you still wouldn't want the power of the gods? I find that difficult to believe."

"I live to fight." Unthok shrugged. "Gods can't fight well. They win too easily. Very boring."

And while the Moblin King was certainly capable of dissembling, for some reason Malark believed him. "I find your lack of ambition... fascinating," he said.

"I know. I'm very fascinating." Unthok flashed his pig-smile. "That's why you let me live, eleven years ago."

"Fascinating the same way an insect can be fascinating," Malark grunted. "Don't mistake my curiosity for camaraderie."

"Owww. You hurt my feelings."

"You can take it. Now, show me to your graveyard."

"Huh? Why?"

"Just do it." Malark had had a sudden inspiration, and he was going to act on it. "Or do you not have such a thing?"

"Hm... yes. Sort of." Unthok shrugged. "Big holes in the ground."

"I'll have a look at it. Take me there."

Unthok obeyed and led Malark away from the cave, and both Belemor and the Triforce silently followed their respective masters. They walked for ten minutes through increasingly lifeless terrain, descending on a narrow mountain path, and eventually arrived at the bottom of a narrow chasm. They followed the chasm for a while, Malark walking behind Unthok, watching the skulls tied to his spear bobbing up and down with every step the Moblin King took. He recalled Unthok telling him once that he only used the heads of his most dangerous enemies as trophies; only those who had come close to beating and killing him.

_If I ever show a moment of weakness or turn my back to him, my head will end up there, too_, Malark cautioned himself. It was a good thing to remember, even though he did not fear Unthok, but the frailty of flesh could not be denied – he knew that better than most, having escaped the clutches of death by the closest margin imaginable.

_The reason I almost died back then was because I underestimated Zelda. It'll do me good to be kept on my toes by Unthok and his ilk._

Malark smelled the stench of the 'graveyard' before he saw it. It consisted of eight or nine deep natural pits in the ground, all of them filled to varying degrees with dead Moblins. About half of the holes contained fresh or half-rotten bodies which were unsuitable for his purpose – they might be good ReDead material, but dragging slow-moving living corpses all the way to the desert would have been cause for a monumental delay. The outlying pits, however, that housed the less recent dead, contained at least a dozen massive Moblin skeletons each, although the majority was in a state of disarray, their bones all scattered and many of them broken.

"Hmpf, what a mess," Malark complained. "Can't you bury them properly? Most of these are unusable."

"Sorry," Unthok laughed. "We just throw them in. The dead are worthless."

"Oh well, I'll make the best of it." Malark approached the closest pit that contained actual skeletons, put up another alarm ward in case Unthok tried anything funny, and began the reanimation spell. He had taught himself this particular bit of dark magic only recently, and so the memory of how to perform it was still fresh in his mind. He reached out into the Beyond, where the souls of the dead dwelt in eternal rest, and yanked the souls of the Moblins who had owned these bodies back into the world of the living.

Slowly, one after another, two of the skeletons in the pit began twitching, then moving, and finally rising; their bones held together not by muscles and tendons, but the invisible ties of dark magic. In the end, three skeletons were sufficiently well-preserved to be able to stand, and the reanimated Moblins looked up at Malark with empty stares, awaiting the orders of their master.

"Get out of that hole," he simply said, and turned to the remaining 'graves'. In the end, there were three pits that contained usable skeletons, and Malark cast the spell once for each of them, noting again with satisfaction that his new body was not nearly as worn out from the effort as his old one would have been. He ordered his new minions to assemble in a straight line at the far side of the chasm to counted their number, and after discarding four of them whose limbs were too damaged to make them useful, six Moblin-Stalfos remained – an acceptable yield, considering how haphazard the skeletons had been mixed together, and more than enough for his purpose.

When Malark turned around to address Unthok, he found both the Moblin King and his personal slave staring in his direction. Unthok looked straight past Malark at the new Stalfos with undisguised greed in his eyes; he had clearly acquired a taste for ordering Stalfos around. Belemor, on the other hand, stared squarely at Malark, and the wizard could almost feel the hatred and disgust he radiated. It took him a second to realize the reasons for that.

_Watching this reminded him of his own reanimation. Perhaps he only now realized that I am the reason he became a slave, though it was Unthok who used the spellsphere I crafted. Ah, how much he wishes to jump at me and run me through with that oversized sword of his! But he can never do that, and he knows it._

"We'll take them with us to the plateau," Malark told Unthok, "where you will have them armed with the best weapons you have. They will serve as my personal guard during our little expedition."

"I can't have them?" Unthok made no attempt to hide his disappointment.

"You already have a Stalfos of your own, you greedy pig – and a general of Hyrule at that! You should appreciate quality over quantity."

"Maybe a few?" Unthok tried to negotiate.

"No!" Malark told him off, "and that's final!" These Stalfos were bound by magic to obey his orders alone, and to protect him in case Unthok grew tired of his master. After all, even he would need sleep during their stay in the desert, and he had no plans to wake up in the middle of the night with Unthok's spear sticking out of his chest.

"Soooo stingy," the Moblin King grumbled, but ceased in his begging, and Malark gave the order to depart. They must be quite a curious-looking group, he realized as they returned to the narrow path leading back to the cave area – Unthok walking in front, followed by Belemor, then the six Moblin-Stalfos, and finally Malark himself with the Triforce at his side.

_What a marvelous bunch of misfits and monsters_, he thought. _But if they pave the way to the power of the gods for me, who am I to complain?_

When they arrived at the cave area, about two dozen Moblins had already assembled, carrying long spears or poleaxes as well as large supply bags on their backs. Some of them were sparring with each other, watched by their comrades who were making bets on the winner, using colourful stones as wager that changed their owner frequently. None of them seemed at all concerned when they saw the reanimated skeletons arrive, betraying none of the superstitious fear that Hylians would have felt in a comparable situation. Most of them graced the new arrivals with an indifferent glance, then returned their attention to the ongoing duels.

"Weapons are inside," Unthok said and pointed at the cave entrance.

"Follow him," Malark told his guard Stalfos, "take the weapons he gives you, then return to me at once."

The Moblin King entered the cave, followed by the skeletons, and Malark deigned to observe his minions during their training fights – after all, there was nothing left to do for him now until Unthok's army had been fully assembled. As he watched the clash of spears, he became aware that he was still carrying Darion's sword around, and removed it from its scabbard on a whim.

Long ago, he had been taught the basics of swordplay, but like all most mages, he had never actually used it in combat, considering it a weapon of last resort only. Ever since taking up advanced magical studies with Mudora more than half a century ago, he had not touched a sword again – after all, what reason should there have been?

Darion's sword was a heavy two-hander, but Malark found that he could easily lift it with one hand, thanks to the prince's strong arms. _It's a good thing he always kept himself in shape_, he thought, and performed a sweeping horizontal strike, a parrying move and a brutal forward thrust, all with astonishing ease. Malark was pragmatic enough to admit that a sword had several advantages over magic, since it required no casting time and far less mental discipline, so he decided to keep it, just in case. He was not going to stop relying on magic, naturally, but perhaps it would save his life in an emergency one of these days.

"Wizard, you like swords? What a surprise!"

Unthok had re-emerged from the cave, along with the Moblin-Stalfos, each of whom was now carrying a large halberd. "Want a duel?" he asked and raised his skull-adorned spear.

"Shut up," Malark growled, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I won't be caught dead using a crude weapon like this if I can help it." He re-sheathed the sword and tipped his forehead with his right index finger. "My real power is in here. Would you care to test it again?"

"No, no," Unthok said quickly. "No fun."

"I thought so," Malark replied with a smirk. He made a dismissive gesture, but Unthok staid where he was and stared at him.

"What is it now?" Malark asked. "Don't you have preparations to make?"

"I wonder," the Moblin King said. "What happened to him? The little prince."

"I already told you, I won't explain it."

"Pah. You're so mean." Unthok pursed his lips, which looked patently ridiculous.

"What, did you like him?" Malark teased his servant.

"He was strong."

"I have taken his strength, and added it to my own."

Unthok nodded. "He is dead. I thought so."

_If only he were_, Malark thought, but did not bother to correct Unthok. It was none of his business, anyway.

"I go now," Unthok said. "Much work to do. Much to prepare." He looked at Belemor. "Come, boneman. You carry supplies."

With a barely audible moan, the general turned Stalfos joined his master and they went back into the cave. Malark's personal guard remained behind, and he had them assume a circle formation around him, just to make it perfectly clear to even the dumbest Moblin that he was not to be approached without permission.

Judging from the position of the sun, it was already late afternoon, which reaffirmed Malark's decision to depart for the desert tomorrow morning at the earliest. In the meantime, he would work on re-learning his most advanced spells, determined to regain his full mastery of magic before he arrived at the Spirit Temple – after all, opening the seal that the ancient Sheikah had placed on the archives there would probably take some doing.

_I shall consider it a test,_ he thought, _whether I'll be worthy to inherit the secrets of my ancestors – the REAL Sheikah, not the servile degenerates of today._

Malark allowed himself a confident smile. For the first time since losing his old body to a once-in-a-lifetime freak occurrence, he felt truly in control of his fate.


	34. A Bitter Homecoming

**Chapter 34: A Bitter Homecoming**

When her internal time sense told her that it was again her turn to stand watch over the Arbiter, Kotake returned to the old wizard's bedroom after an hour-long expedition through the many passageways and rooms of his home. Most of them had been empty, devoid of any sign of habitation, others transformed into storehouses for all kinds of strange items both magical and mechanical in nature. Wary of touching anything in a wizard's home, she had merely taken a good look at most of them, with the exception of a strange, gear-like item she had found in a locked (and easily picked) wooden chest. Kotake had picked it up and looked over it closely, trying to find out what its purpose could be, but had eventually given up and put it back into its chest, wondering whether the Arbiter had gathered all this junk himself or inherited it from the building's Hylian constructors.

_One man's trash is another man's treasure_, she had reminded herself, and wondered whether somebody would actually find a use for the stupid thing one day. Knowing that Koume would berate her for relieving her too late, she made a quick stop at the large reservoir in the lower stories and quenched her thirst, then went straight back to the Arbiter's bedroom.

_It's hopeless_, she told herself as she approached the room, passing the still ruined door to the library. _He's not going to wake up again. He must have taken more damage from that strike than we first assumed._ It had been two days now since the blasted Moblin and his Stalfos slave had left with the stolen Triforce piece, and the Arbiter had still not regained consciousness. Koume had insisted that they should wait and watch over the old wizard a while longer, and Kotake had readily agreed, not only because of the large building to explore, but also because of the Arbiter's well-stocked larder and full reservoir. But as the days had passed, her hope to see him open his eyes again (and possibly teach the sisters magic out of gratitude) were growing rather slim.

_Maybe he woke up while I was gone_, Kotake tried to convince herself as she opened the door to the bedroom, but she found the old man still lying in his bed, covered with an increasingly smelly blanket, while Koume was sitting on the only chair in the room, leaning against a wall, reading one of the large tomes from the library – or rather trying to.

"I just can't figure out these stupid Hylian letters," she said without looking up when Kotake entered the room. "They are all squiggly and stuff, and they all look way too similar to one another." She closed the book and put it down with an overly dramatic sigh. "What a pain."

"He didn't wake up," Kotake stated the obvious.

"Yes, he did," Koume replied, "but I told him to feign sleeping to confuse you."

"That's nice. My shift, my seat," Kotake said and nudged her sister until she vacated the chair, then sat down herself. "Although to be honest..." She let her voice trailed off.

"What?"

"I was just thinking... He's been unconscious for two days. After getting hit hard on the head. People don't just walk away from that."

"Not usually, no," Koume admitted. "To be honest, I was thinking the same thing."

"A rational thought, coming from you. The world must be about to end." Kotake sighed. "Even if he wakes up, he'll probably be a drooling shell of a man who won't be able to teach us anything."

"Who are you calling a drooling shell, young lady?" the Arbiter's leathery voice suddenly sounded from the bed, and the sisters spun around on the spot, staring at the old man who was sitting upright in his bed with his eyes closed. "It's not like I – argh, what did you do to my head? It feels like it's going to burst."

After rubbing his scalp for a few moments, the Arbiter opened his eyes and looked at the sisters with a curious expression. "What's it with you? Did you see a ghost?"

"We... we're just surprised, that's all," Kotake muttered.

"And happy," her sister added. "That you're alive, I mean."

"Of course I am alive, or I wouldn't be talking to you."

Unable to resist that logic, Kotake smirked, followed by a long sigh.

"You gave us quite a scare. It's been two days, you know."

"Oh? Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"How strange," the Arbiter mused. "People don't usually wake up after being unconscious that long."

"That's what I said!" the twins exclaimed simultaneously, probably too loud, for the Arbiter groaned and put his hands against his head again. "Why did nobody ever come up with a spell against headache?" he asked and rose from his bed, much to the sisters' shock.

"Ho, slow down, old man!" Kotake lunged and caught the Arbiter just as he was about to fall after making his first step. "Don't rush things. You're lucky to be alive."

"Nonsense," the Arbiter said and struggled against her grip. "I won't be able to use my legs again if I stay in bed for too long."

"It's your funeral," Kotake shrugged and let go of him. To her surprise, the wizard managed to continue standing on his own power, and even made several shaky steps without falling; then he sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

"What's that smell?" he asked.

"You... uh... wet yourself a couple of times." Kotake pointed at the stains of dried urine on the lower part of the Arbiter's robe.

"Well excuse me, I was unconscious!" The old man's head turned visibly red.

"I wasn't criticizing you!" she tried to placate him. "Just answering your question."

"We can leave while you change," Koume offered.

"Hmpf. That won't be necessary." The Arbiter moved the fingers of his left hand, and the stains vanished from his robe, as did the lingering smell of urine in the air. Kotake was amazed that magic spells existed for something as mundane as cleaning oneself and one's clothing.

_If we knew how to do this, we wouldn't have to climb down to the river near Gerudo Fortress every time we want to take a bath._

"So tell me," the Arbiter said, "what happened after I so excellently demonstrated to you the vulnerability of wizards?"

"They took the Triforce piece and fled. That's all," Koume said flatly.

"They?"

"A Moblin appeared shortly after you were knocked out," Kotake explained. "They chased us for a bit, defeated us, took the Triforce piece and escaped."

"So Belemor still lives?" The Arbiter cast down his eyes. "What this poor man must be suffering..."

"Poor man?" Koume scowled. "He almost killed you!"

"But he had no choice! That's the way a Stalfos' magic works. I should have done as he said and put him out of his misery, not try to save him." He sighed. "I really should know better. Not everyone can be saved."

"He was your friend, wasn't he?" Kotake recalled bits of the short conversation between the Arbiter and the Stalfos.

"More an acquaintance than a friend, but still – I would not wish his fate on my worst enemy. If I ever meet him again, I will not hesitate to fulfill his wish." The Arbiter put his right hand on his chin and cocked his head, as if he had forgotten something. "Ixis!" he exclaimed suddenly. "He's bound to be completely starved! I have to feed the poor thing!"

"Don't worry," Kotake said, "I took care of that."

"You... did?" The old man blinked several times in a row.

"I did," Kotake nodded. "I found your food storage. Where in the hell did you get all that cured beef?"

"I have certain trade channels," the Arbiter said and smiled.

"I thought you had no more dealings with Hyrule?"

"There are other lands beyond this desert, you know."

"Yes, with unscaleable mountains in between."

"Unscaleable for you, perhaps," the Arbiter said, and for some reason, his eyes passed over the broomstick leaning against the far corner of the room. "Anyway, you have my thanks for taking care of Ixis and me."

"He got a couple of wounds from the Moblin," Kotake added for the sake of . "But nothing major. He just licked them, and they're already mostly healed."

"My poor baby," the Arbiter said, and Kotake suppressed a laugh. "I have to see if he's all right – but that has to wait. First I have to go to Hyrule."

"But aren't you exiled?" Kotake asked, but the Arbiter shook his head.

"My exile is self-imposed, so I am free to make the odd exception."

"Not much of an exile, then," Kotake mocked. "Do you often make such exceptions?" her sister asked.

"Actually, this one will be the first. But I can no longer hide from my responsibility. I must look after the Triforce and see to it that it is returned to its resting place, or, even better, its pieces hidden separately."

"You're not exactly in great shape," Koume pointed out.

"Feel free to accompany me if you're so concerned, but this thing cannot wait. It may already be too late, since I just had to take such a long nap."

_He sure doesn't go easy on himself._

"So, do we come with him?" Kotake asked her sister.

"I think we should," Koume nodded. "At least one of us."

"Yeah right, like I can let you go somewhere alone. We're both going."

"I'm not the one who almost got herself killed the last time we got separated," Koume said triumphantly. _How long am I going to hear about this from her? _Kotake wondered, and realized only now that the wound on her leg had completely stopped hurting over the last two days, and the same went for her burned hand. _Hooray for healing magic_, she thought not for the first time. _One more reason to get him to teach us!_

"All right, then," the Arbiter announced. "Are you ready to go?"

"Teleport?" Kotake asked, and he nodded. "I'm ready," she said, and Koume professed the same.

"Our first stop is Keeptown," the Arbiter said. "I want to take a look at this prince you mentioned."

Kotake almost giggled with glee when she imagined the old wizard beating Darion silly with his magic, her reservations against returning to Keeptown all but brushed aside thanks to the Arbiter's fearsome power travelling with them. She steadied herself against the disorienting effect of the teleportation spell and waited.

Several seconds later, she was still waiting.

"This is unusual," the Arbiter said with a deep frown on his face. "I'm having difficulties with the teleport spell."

"How come?" Kotake asked.

"You have to imagine your destination in your head, but if the real place has changed significantly from how you remember it, it doesn't work too well. But I can't imagine Keeptown to have changed too much in only twenty years."

'_Only' twenty years? I haven't even lived much longer than that!_

"Maybe the Zora fire spread and destroyed the whole town?" Koume suggested.

"I don't think so," Kotake said. "It looked like they already had it under control when we escaped."

"Don't worry, ladies, I'll get us there," the Arbiter assured them. "I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve..."

The sisters waited for another short while, trying not to watch the Arbiter too intently as he repeated his finger gestures several times with what to them looked like not much of a difference at all. But after a couple of tries, the spell finally seemed to work, because the room vanished before their eyes and was replaced with a wide, empty plain that was covered in an ankle-deep layer of ashes. Here and there charred stone foundations broke the monotony, the only proof that there had ever been a town here in the first place.

"This can't be," Kotake said, struggling for words. "The fire was under control. Is this...?"

She looked at Koume, who was just as incredulous as her sister, and then at the Arbiter. But the old man did not look back at them. Instead, he made a step foward, looked around and made a sound like a suffocating crow. His head jerked to his right, then to his left, and back to the right again. Then he turned around and looked at his companions with horror in his eyes, his lips trembling and his hands shaking. Kotake opened her mouth to speak, but found nothing to say. Suddenly, the old man's shoulders sagged away and he collapsed, and the sisters barely managed to catch his body before he hit the ground. He had not fainted, for his widened eyes still darted around, but he had lost all strength in his legs and had to be supported.

"Impossible," came a barely audible whisper. "Impossible."

"No, it's not," Kotake said, surprised at the calm in her voice. "It's real."

"We are too late," Koume said. "This must be the work of the Triforce."

"Yess! Yesss, the Trrriforce!" The Arbiter's voice was a drawn-out in a manner which under different circumstances might have sounded comical. "It was here. I can feeeel it!"

"There's not one house left standing," Koume said. "And the Keep... even the Keep is gone!"

"Darion must have gone completely insane," Kotake stated the obvious. She tried not to show it openly, but the devastation affected her as well. It wasn't just that the town was gone, it was that there was not one structure remaining, not one survivor to be seen walking among the destruction – like Koume had said. It was the _thoroughness _of it all that made it so hard to comprehend. Kotake had no love for the Hylians in general, and the townsfolk in particular, but this complete eradication felt like a punch in the gut even to her. She slowly shook her head and looked at the Arbiter with pity in her eyes.

_How bad must it be for a man who lived here for most of his live? Who returned to protect the people from danger, only to find that he came too late? It's no wonder he can't stand._

As if he had read her thoughts and intended to prove her wrong, the Arbiter struggled free from the twins' supporting hold, strength returning once more to his legs. He raised his right arm in the air, and a faint green light emanated from his hand, spreading across the destroyed town. After a few seconds, he lowered his arm again and the light vanished.

"That was a probing spell," he explained, his voice hoarse, but otherwise normal. "There is not a single living Hylian within a three-mile-radius, other than the three of us."

Her pride made Kotake say "We aren't Hylians," and she wanted to take the words back as soon as she had spoken them. Koume glared at her for splitting hairs at a moment like this, and she looked away with a pang of guilt, but the Arbiter might as well not have heard her for all the reaction he showed. "Sorry," she said nonetheless, and chewed on her lower lip.

"We have no time for grief!" the Arbiter suddenly exclaimed and straightened his back. "We must find the miscreant who did this, and put an end to him!"

"That may not be the best idea," Kotake suggested gently. "If he has the Triforce, he'll-"

"Silence!" the wizard barked with unprecedented intensity. "You can stay here if you want to!"

"Oh no!" Koume said. "There's no way I'm staying here!"

"Then you'll come with me," the Arbiter said, and an instant later, the three had changed position. The remnants of Keeptown were still visible, but a good mile or so away from them. Another teleport, and it was almost out of sight. Yet another, and it was gone.

_We're moving in a straight line, _Kotake realized. _He's teleporting just as far as his eyes can see. That must mean he's following a trail._

"Do you even know where you're taking us?" Koume asked with a slight trembling in her voice.

"Of course!" the Arbiter snapped. "I can feel the path the Triforce has taken as clearly as you could see the tracks from an ox cart on a muddy road. No matter how far he went, I will find the one who did this."

"Then you better kill him before he kills us!" Koume said, and again, they were relocated a mile farther along the invisible track.

"Stop this foolishness!" Kotake said. "You'll never defeat him in your condition! You're far too angry to-"

"I'm not angry at all," the Arbiter shouted. "On the contrary, I am more focused than I ever was in my life. Wiping out this pest before he sees us and uses the Triforce on us will be a breeze."

They teleported again, and this time, they found themselves next to a large, circular speck of ashes in the middle of the field, adorned with the charred remains of fallen trunks.

"What do we have here?" the Arbiter asked and closed his eyes in concentration. "The Triforce was here, but it wasn't _used_. I'm just feeling the remnants of a few run-of-the-mill fire spells... and then a teleport spell. Damn it!"

"What is it?" Kotake asked. "Can't you find out where he teleported?"

"No, that's impossible," the wizard replied. "At least to the best of my knowledge."

"So the trail ends here," Koume stated almost relieved. "Now take some deep breaths, and stop using magic, or you're going to kill yourself!"

"I will not be lectured like this by a layperson who has never..." He broke off, and collapsed again.

"Damn it," Kotake whispered to her sister as they caught him, "if he continues like this, he'll die before we get anything useful out of him."

"I... I'm sorry," the Arbiter gasped, still conscious, but breathing heavily. "This excitement... it's too much... at my age." He gulped. "My heart... I think... I..." He put his hands on his chest and took deep, even breaths, until his face turned back from red to his leathery skin colour and his perspiration lessened. "I'm all right," he finally said. "Thank you."

"You are most definitely not all right," Koume chided him. "What the hell were you thinking? I mean, I can understand how you feel, but getting yourself killed won't help anyone."

"I just had a moment of perfect clarity. I knew what I had to do, and that I had to do it right now." The Arbiter scratched his head and smiled apologetically. "It seems perfect clarity doesn't stop you from doing stupid things." The old man's smile vanished as soon as it had come. "Gods, I almost forgot for a second what happened..."

"That's great," Kotake said. "You should try to extend that second to a minute, then an hour, then a day. There's no point in dwelling on the past."

"Can you take us back?" Koume asked. "Because you really should go back to bed now. But if you can't, we can rest here until you-"

"It's all right, I can do this," the Arbiter said. "I wrote the book on teleportation, you know." Before either sister could comment, the circle of ashes around them disappeared, and they were back in the Arbiter's bedroom. With a wheezing exhalation, the old man sat down on the bed, but did not lie down.

"We'll leave you alone for a while," Koume said and grabbed Kotake's hand, dragging her toward the door. "Come on, we-"

"Wait! Stay here, you two!"

"No, you need rest!" Koume was insistent.

"There's no way I can sleep right now," the Arbiter's hoarse voice replied. "And even if I could... there would only be nightmares waiting for me." He shuddered, looking very weary and vulnerable, not at all like the confident and eccentric master wizard the sisters had come to known. "Let me tell you what I think happened back there," he said.

"Go ahead," Kotake said, which earned her an angry stare from her sister, but she ignored it. The Arbiter had made his decision, and she would not insult him by just walking out on him. For the first time in her life, she was actually feeling respect toward a Hylian – an unusual emotion, yet not out of place here. Koume raised her hands and stared at the ceiling with pleading eyes, then shrugged and planted herself on the only chair in the room before Kotake could reach it, sticking her tongue out.

_Yeah, real mature, sister._

"I believe that the man who did this to Keeptown is dead," the Arbiter began.

"You mean Darion? Awesome!" Koume said, but Kotake was more skeptical. "What makes you think that?" she asked.

"Darion," the Arbiter nodded. "You mean the crown prince?" The sisters nodded, and the old man closed his eyes in reminiscence. "I remember him only as a toddler," he said, "from before I left Hyrule. To think that he..." He shook his head. "At any rate, unless things changed at court rather drastically since I went into exile, the crown prince or princess is never taught any magic at all – it's kind of a stupid tradition, but it has always been obeyed."

"That sounds about right," Koume said. "At least Darion never threw any fireballs at us." She shuddered. "He was bad enough already."

"Since I traced the Triforce to that grove in a straight line, it means Prince Darion, curse his soul, ran there on foot, but he can't have been the one who teleported away – since he has no magic. Are you following me?"

"Yes," Kotake said. "But he could have met with an accomplice, who helped him teleport out."

"But then why burn the grove down?"

"Beats me."

"It is my theory," the old man continued while dangling his thin legs off the edge of the bed, "that a currently unknown practitioner of magic pursued Darion to this grove, killed him, and burned the corpse along with the grove. Perhaps it caught fire during their fight. Then he teleported away with the Triforce."

"But Darion just had to say 'die!', so how can they have fought at all?" Koume asked.

"Perhaps he killed Darion with one shot, and then the fire spread," the Arbiter suggested.

"So, assuming your theory is true..." Kotake hesitated. "Where does that leave us?"

"I think there's a strong possibility that our unknown wizard is one of the sages who survived the destruction of Keeptown somehow and killed Darion in revenge. He would then have secured the Triforce and hidden it away again – more safely this time, I would hope."

"That sounds good," Kotake nodded. "At least better than Darion being at large with the Triforce, killing people at random."

"Of course I must confirm this theory as soon as possible," the Arbiter said. "There may be other survivors from Keeptown, who departed for some unknown sanctuary before we arrived. As soon as I am strong enough, I will seek them out and ask them all about it."

"With special emphasis on the 'as soon as I am strong enough' part," Koume said.

"Certainly," he assured her. "But I mustn't wait too long, since I could still be wrong. I'll look for Malark or Rauru or-"

"Malark?" both sisters asked at the same time. "You knew Malark?"

"Why, of course," the Arbiter said. "He was one of my students – the best of them, actually, and my natural successor as head of the Six Sages after I took my leave from Hyrule." The old man nodded to himself. "It's usually impossible to identify the wizard who cast a spell with any reliability, but Malark always had a certain... style, if I can call it that. I have a hunch that the one who burned down that grove was him."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Koume said, "but Malark is dead as a doornail."

"What?" The Arbiter's eyes went wide. "How do you know?"

"We saw his body," Kotake explained, recalling the accursed night when they had exhumed the wizards corpse. "There can have been no mistake."

"But we weren't the ones who killed him!" Koume was quick to assure the Arbiter, failing to mention that they had been _planning_ to do kill him. "Was he... your friend?" she asked with suspicion.

"Malark called no one his friend," the Arbiter said. "But he was a student of mine, as I said. As were most of the other sages, at one point or another." He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. "So it was not Malark, then, but another sage. It makes no difference. They are all good, reliable people. At least the ones I knew."

_Just as Malark was good and reliable?_ Kotake's skepticism was tremendous, but she was probably better off not badmouthing all of the Arbiter's former colleagues, most of whom were probably dead by old age by now.

"There were more than ten thousand people living in this city. If only I had been there a little bit sooner," the old wizard whispered without warning, looking rather depressed again. Kotake sighed and threw her hands into the air. She had had enough.

"I honestly don't get it why some people always want to blame themselves," she said in a sharp tone. "Do you get some sick pleasure from these guilt trips? Or is it some ass-backwards coping mechanism? Can you explain it to me, please?"

"Kotake, don't-"

"Oh, shut up, sister, he's not a little child who has to be protected." She looked at the Arbiter again. "Lots of people died. It's over and done with. You could at least _try_to forget about it."

"You're making this sound so easy..."

"I think it is. Our parents died five years ago, and I haven't thought more than ten times about them since then." Kotake rubbed her nose. "Hm, well, maybe that's not the best example, because I could never really stand them. But I was still a bit sad in the beginning. Guess what? The feeling went away!" She put her hands against her sides and made a step toward the Arbiter. "If it hadn't been for our little visit, you would have stayed in the desert and never seen the people of that town again, anyway! So did you really lose anything?"

"Not me. They. They lost everything."

"This isn't about them, it's about you! You're just telling yourself that you're grieving about them to make yourself feel better about your own misery."

"Maybe I _want_ to feel better about my own misery," the Arbiter said defiantly.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Kotake said and smiled. "You just have to distract yourself. Take your mind off these things. Come on, you're, like, at least three times as old as me, I shouldn't have to explain this stuff to you! Take your dragon for a walk. Drill for water. Teleport all over the place until you get dizzy. Teach us some magic. Just _do_ something."

Exhausted from her own rant, Kotake sat down on the far edge of the Arbiter's bed and clasped her hands against each other, awaiting the old man's reaction. Worst case scenario, he would throw them out, in which case they would not be worse off than before. Best case scenario, on the other hand...

"So you want to learn magic, don't you?" the old man asked

"Yes, absolutely!" _Could it be that easy to convince him? I wasn't even really trying..._

"Why do you want to learn it"? he asked.

"Why...?" Kotake stared at him. He of all people was asking that? "Because it's ridiculously useful! I mean, teleporting alone is already awesome – we would never have to walk through the desert again. And fighting magic, and healing, and... and..." She stretched out her arms as far as she could, indicating just how many possible applications there were. "Say something, too!" she told her sister.

"What she said," Koume replied.

_Very helpful._

"All right." The Arbiter nodded. "I guess I owe you one for watching over me... which also proved that you aren't bad people. Think of what you could have stolen while I was unconscious!"

"Yeah, we're not like that," Koume assured him.

"We never steal," Kotake lied. "Well, unless it's food." That was only partially correct, but the Arbiter did not need to know their complete life stories.

"Very well," the old man said. "I will distract myself – by teaching you. Or at least, by trying to – you must know that not everyone has the same potential. Like intelligence and beauty, magic talent is unevenly distributed."

"That's bad," Koume said. "After all, we already got lots of the first two."

The Arbiter chuckled. "I don't think they're mutually exclusive. So let's begin right now."

_Wait, so actually I talked him into it? That wasn't even my intention. I just wanted to make him stop feel sorry for himself._

"Um... before we begin..."

"What is it, Lady Koume?"

"Are there any known side effects?"

_You've got to be kidding me._

"Oh yes," the Arbiter said and nodded profoundly. "Most important of all, magic is rejuvenating."

"Reju... reju-what?"

"It means you don't age as fast," Kotake explained. "Seriously, don't you know anything?" Koume ignored her and focused on the Arbiter. "Soo... how old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My, what an inappropriate question." For the first time since their return, the Arbiter smiled. "Let's just say I passed the three-digit-mark a few decades ago."

"Whoa," Koume said with an open mouth. "Just where is the upper limit?"

"There is no theoretical limit," the Arbiter said. "But in practice, no more than two hundred years at most. Anything after that, and the body start to deform."

"That doesn't sound too bad in exchange for, you know, not dying," Kotake chimed in.

"But the mind changes also," the Arbiter warned. "One grows twisted over time. It's not worth overdoing it."

"Well, that's not really relevant right now," Kotake changed the topic, while thinking: _No theoretical limit? Amazing! What do I care about a little twisting of body and mind? Who gets to say what's 'twisted', anyway?_

"Let me give you a short introduction of the foundations of what we call magic," the Arbiter said, and from one moment to the next changed completely: He was now in what Kotake dubbed 'tutor mode', and explained all kinds of theoretical principles about the workings of magic, and different spell types triggered by gestures, formulas, catalysts, and so on. His depression seemed to never have happened, and she suspected that right now, he had truly forgotten about the destruction of his hometown.

_For my part, I certainly won't remind him of it._

"Let's have you take the first test now," the Arbiter said and rose from the bed, only to stagger back down again. "Hm, I seem to be emarrassingly frail today," he mused and looked at Koume. "Would you fetch two cups of water from the reservoir?"

"Sure," she answered and left the room.

"What is this test about?" Kotake asked quickly in order to fill the silence.

"Ah, I'll tell you when your sister comes back," the Arbiter replied.

"Do you think we'll pass it?"

"Who can say? Many people who try to do magic fail completely, betraying not even the slightest hint of talent. So please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work at all."

"Sure thing," Kotake said. Life in the desert had taught the sisters to hang their expectations low.

Koume returned, carrying two clay cups filled with water, and the Arbiter had her put them on the floor. Then he asked the sisters to sit or kneel down in front of them, and they complied.

"The most basic magic spells revolve around the manipulation of matter and energy, not its creation," he lectured them. "For example, putting something on fire is far easier than conjuring a fireball out of thin air. Therefore, this traditional test is about temperature manipulation. Put your fingers into the water and tell me its temperature, please."

"It's cool," Koume answered after dipping a finger into her cup, "but not overly so," and Kotake confirmed it.

"What I want you to do is try and change the temperature of the water. There are three necessary steps: Focus, image, and trigger."

"Focusing means concentrating real hard, right?" Koume asked.

"It's a more mystical quality than that! It means removing everything but yourself and the object of your magic from your window of observation, assessing that object so completely that you almost forget it is even there! It's like walking on a tightrope without looking at the rope, but still not missing a single step!" He sighed. "But I guess, for the moment, 'concentrating real hard' will do."

"Next, image. That's the easiest part: Simply imagine the effect of your magic on the object. In this case, imagine that your finger is inside the water, and it's a bit warmer than before, or colder."

"So you can do anything as long as you can imagine it?" Koume asked. "There are no limits?"

"Ah, yes, I'm afraid there are, because the image needs to correspond to the trigger. Many images do not even have a trigger, and magical research involves finding such triggers – hand gestures, magical formulas, or chemical reagents. Mostly hand gestures, though, because they are the quickest and most convenient method."

"So even if you focus perfectly and imagine the water to become cold, it won't work if you move your fingers wrong?" Kotake asked, pretty sure that she was getting the basic principle.

"Yes, that's very much it," the Arbiter nodded. "As for the trigger itself, pay close attention to my hand now." He extended his right hand and opposed his thumb at a right angle to his palm. "Move the thumb toward your hand to lower the temperature, and move it away to raise it," he said and demonstrated the finger movement. "The greater the change in temperature, the quicker your thumb must move, and the greater your focus must be. All three components have to be in perfect unison, or it won't work at all, so I suggest you take it slow in the beginning. Just go for a noticeable change in temperature, that'll be enough."

Exhaling deeply, the Arbiter sank back into his blankets, seemingly worn out by the long explanation.

"Shouldn't we... do this somewhere else?" Koume asked hesitantly. "So you can rest?"

"It is required that the test be conducted in the presence of the wizard administering it," the Arbiter replied with his eyes closed.

"Required by whom?" Kotake asked – it was not like they had any regulations to follow.

"Me."

"Ah," she said with a stupid voice. _What he says, goes. Oh well._

"I simply wish to prevent you from... how shall we say... achieving the objective of the test in a decidedly mundane manner," the Arbiter said.

"Why don't you just say 'cheating' if that's what you mean?" Kotake asked.

"Because it's such an ugly word."

"But we have no reason for that!" Koume protested. "We'd only be cheating ourselves!"

"I believe as the teacher, that is my line. Now please begin."

Kotake nodded, moved her legs into a more comfortable position and began to look intently at the cup in front of her. She saw her sister doing the same, staring at her cup with a comically serious look on her face, then admonished herself for being so easily distracted and shielded her left eye with her hand. The Arbiter must have seen it, for he said: "Back in my day, some people actually used blinders to help them focus. Of course that's cheating, too."

_All right, _Kotake thought. _This is me, and this is the water. I'm totally assessing it. We are as one. _

_Urgh, I feel so stupid._

"As I told you," the Arbiter's casual voice interrupted her concentration, "this is the traditional first test for aspiring wizards. Some say whether you heat or cool the water reveals something about your character, but personally, I think that's nonsense."

"Which one did you do?" Kotake heard her sister ask. _You're allowing him to distract you_, she thought.

"I tried for three hours without success, then gave up and drank the water because I had become thirsty." He sighed. "I was no good at all and it took me ages to pick up the basics. Which just goes to show that you shouldn't let failure throw you off course. As with all things, magic becomes easier the more often you do it."

"Uhm... do you have to keep talking while we're trying to concen... uh, focus?" Koume asked.

"Actually, I do," the Arbiter said. "After all, you will never find optimal conditions for spellcasting in real life, and training should mirror reality."

Kotake suspected that there was a different reason for the Arbiter's talking: To keep himself occupied and distracted. But as much as she understood this need of his, it was still annoying and made concentrating difficult. She tried to pretend that the old man's voice was like the howling of the desert wind that often came out of nowhere and lasted for hours. Desert dwellers learned early to shut out its sound or go crazy. In a way, it was like fighting against an enemy who was taunting you with words, trying to make you slip up and let your guard down – you ignored him or you died.

_Then again, I have been known to react to taunts like this before_, Kotake recalled. _Perhaps trying to ignore him is the wrong way. Perhaps I have to hear him in addition to concentrating on the water._

"How do we know we'll be focused, anyway?" she asked, trying to keep her voice flat and her eyes on the cup.

"Good question," the Arbiter praised her. "But you can't really 'know' it. Just add image and trigger, and see if you succeed."

"Why didn't you say that before?" Kotake closed her eyes, imagined the stupid water in the stupid cup as ice cold, then moved her thumb toward her hand as their instructor had demonstrated. When her thumb touched her palm, she realized that she had moved way too fast – small steps, the Arbiter had told them. Nonetheless, she decided to check the water's temperature.

The tip of her finger touched a cold, hard surface. Ice.

"Whoa," she said under her breath, dumbfounded at her speedy success.

"What is it?" Koume asked with audible excitement. "Let me see!" Her sister's finger darted toward the cup and touched the ice as well. She scowled, then withdrew her finger, snatched the cup and raised it before her eyes. She turned it upside down and shook it, but the ice was firmly stuck inside. "I can't believe it," she said, and her mouth stayed open.

"Hm, what?" The Arbiter opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. "Success so soon?"

Koume hit the bottom of Kotake's cup with the back of her hand, and the block of ice became dislodged, hitting the floor with a dull clanking noise. The Arbiter saw it, bent forward and narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled at Kotake and began clapping. "I am most impressed," he said.

"That's _it_?" Kotake asked in disbelief. "That wasn't difficult at all! Is this what all your ado was about?" She gave the Arbiter a suspicious look. "Wait! _You_ froze it, just to mess with me! Admit it!"

"You insult me," the wizard replied with a sheepish look. "I would never toy with the emotions of a fragile young maiden by doing something like this." Kotake snorted when he said that – she was neither fragile nor a maiden, and not even that young anymore. At any rate, his assurance seemed believable to her. She really had succeeded on her own account.

"Why was it so easy?" she asked.

"It was easy _for you_," the Arbiter corrected her. "Never assume that everybody else has as little difficulties with something as you do. Trust me, it'll feel really humiliating if you ever end up in the opposite situation."

"I get what you mean," Koume growled. "It's like she's mocking me."

"I'm sure you can do it, too!" Kotake said with deliberately overdone cheerfulness. "Come on, do your best! Never give up!"

"Now I _know _you're mocking me," her sister said. "But just you wait..." Koume straightened her back, wet her lips with her tongue and moved her thumb away from her hand in a quick movement, followed by steam rising from her cup and the sound of water boiling. "Yes!" she shouted. "I did it!"

"Didn't I tell you two to take it slow?" the Arbiter asked, but his tone did not match his admonishing words. In fact, it sounded like he was almost a bit excited.

"We don't do small things," Kotake said with a self-assured smile.

"Life is too short for taking it slow," Koume agreed with her. "What spell is next?"

"The impatience of youth!" The Arbiter sighed. "Just because you cast a spell once doesn't mean you mastered it! You have to refine your skills, and work on your endurance. Most beginners can freeze or boil water after a couple of days, but can you do it thirty times in a row?"

"Sure," Kotake said. "It's not like it was exhausting or anything."

"That's what you're saying now," the Arbiter said with a knowing smirk. "But magic is more exhausting than you might believe. Also, this was a very small amount of water – do you think you could freeze the entire contents of my reservoir?"

"Uh... I don't know," Kotake said, careful not to sound overly arrogant. After all, the reservoir had been pretty big, holding at least a hundred liters or more. "I guess I could try," she added.

"Bah, I'll get it to boil long before that," Koume said. "I have to make up for coming in second."

"This is not a race," the Arbiter reminded them, "so don't go overboard. I would hate it if you vaporized my entire water supply. We are in a desert, remember."

"How could we ever forget," Kotake sighed.

"Also, don't go expecting everything will be as easy as this this! Just as some people are slow learners, others hit their skill ceiling early. Consider yourselves warned." The Arbiter groaned and sank back on his bed once more. "This also gives me the convenient excuse for taking a nap. My head hurts, and I'm still... ah, no, forget about that. Anyway, just go down to the reservoir and have at it."

"All right," Kotake said and rose from the ground. "And after that?"

"Well, once you're done having fun with my water supply, you may peruse my humble library. There are some excellent instructive texts for beginners in there."

"We can't read Hylian," Koume pointed out.

"Ah, of course. But there's a way around that. I wrote a primer about the Hylian language once, because Gerudo guest workers always had such trouble with it. There's a copy of it somewhere in the library – the binding is green, if I remember correctly."

"I don't feel like learning Hylian," Kotake said. "You'll continue to teach us, won't you?"

"Yes, but I don't plan on becoming a full-time teacher – I like my hobbies, and I have a pet to take care of." The Arbiter drew his blanket over his chest and closed his eyes. "Oh, and as much as I'm trying to forget about it, there's still the whole dreary matter of the Triforce to conclude." He sighed wearily. "I just know I'm going to have nightmares about that."

"We'll see about that book," Kotake said quickly. _We shouldn't have to learn Hylian out of principle alone. But if we benefit from it... hmpf, maybe._

"Would you be so kind as to close the curtains – ah, thank you, Lady Koume." The Arbiter yawned loudly as Kotake opened the door and slipped into the corridor. "Good night," Koume said, and closed the door behind them.

"Phew," Kotake said as they walked down the corridor toward the staircase leading down to the water reservoir. "For a second, I thought he was going to ramble again about how horrible he felt."

Koume shook her head. "You're so heartless."

"Perhaps that's what makes me so adept at magic," Kotake said with a superior smile.

"Bah, don't go around boasting just because you were a bit faster than me! Just you wait, I'm going to surpass you in no time! I'll be throwing fireballs around while you're still stuck creating ice cubes."

"What do I care?" Kotake asked. "It's pretty obvious that frost magic is superior. I mean, come on – throwing fireballs? That's so stereotypical."

"That's your opinion."

"Yeah, like I'm going to argue with you about that." They reached the staircase and descended to the basement of the Arbiter's home. "But I suppose there's nothing bad about specialization. That way, we'll complement each other better."

"I can already picture it," Koume said and made a sweeping movement with her arms. "Koume and Kotake, feared far and wide as the twin talents!"

"That's not exactly a fear-inspiring name, you know."

"Hm. Twin killers, then?"

"That sounds juvenile."

"Twin magical masterminds?"

"Too long."

"Twinrova?"

"Huh? What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I just thought it sounded neat."

"Whatever," Kotake said and rolled her eyes. They arrived in the wide, low-ceilinged room that housed the reservoir. "Let's do it like this: I freeze the water, then you melt it again. Ready?"

"Any time, old woman."

"I'm not older than you," Kotake said without particular fervour, tired of their ancient argument. "But we'll both have a chance to become _really _old women if the rejuvenating effects of magic work on us."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Koume said and nodded. "To tell the truth, I'd like to live forever. But a couple of hundred years would be acceptable, too."

"Noo, we mustn't!" Kotake mocked. "Our bodies and minds will become twisted!" She grinned and shook her head. "I'm sure the old man means well, but it's safe to say we can ignore that warning."

"What's so bad about being 'twisted', anyway?" Koume asked.

"You're taking the words out of my mouth, sister," Kotake said. "Now let's begin."


	35. Master of Their Destiny

**Chapter 35: Master of Their Destiny**

On the evening of the second day after the destruction of Keeptown, a requiem was scheduled to be held for the countless innocent souls who had perished during the cataclysm. It was to be conducted by the military chaplain of the North Garrison, where the survivors had arrived in the early hours of morning. The sun was hanging low in the western sky, and the four watchtowers cast their long shadows across the garrison's trampled soil. The survivors had assembled a stone's throw from the small chapel that, according to Arnu, housed the portal leading to the former resting place of the Triforce. Tomorrow, people planned to go out into the nearby woods and chop lumber for the construction of new houses, following their plan to turn the largely empty garrison into a new town. Tonight, however, would be spent remembering their friends and fellow citizens who had fallen before Darion's madness.

Ever since the plague, Link had had his fill of burials and requiems, but since mostly every single survivor had assembled here tonight, he decided to come, too – not much of a reason, but it was not like there was anything better to do. The survivors from Keeptown, as well as the dozen or so knights who had remained in the garrison, had formed a wide half-circle three rows deep, centered around a group of three man-sized statues depicting the golden goddesses who had created the world. They had been temporarily removed from the tiny chapel because it could not have housed a tenth of the people who attended. Ancient religious custom had it that no statue of the Goddesses should ever touch the soil, and so a large battle standard had been put on the ground; purple cloth featuring the Hylian crest of bird and Triforce.

Prior to the ceremony, Link had witnessed a quarrel between people who wanted to cut out the Triforce out of the crest, and those who opposed them. They argued that Darion had used the Triforce to kill thousands of people, and that its symbol should not be honoured anymore. In reply, they were told that the Triforce was like a sword, and there was no point in blaming the sword for the people killed by its wielder. Grudgingly, the first group had come to accept this argument, and desisted in their attempt at iconoclasm. Standing nearby, Link had watched the debate in silence, having no strong opinion on the matter – as far as he was concerned, a symbol was merely a symbol.

Link was standing on the left side of the half-circle in the front row, not too far from Arnu and the other sages standing closer to the middle of the assembly, deep in conversation. The fourth sage had joined them, he noticed – a bald, bearded man with a sad face wearing an orange robe. The sages had not talked to him again after arriving here, because they had been busy organizing – the memorial service, the construction of the new town, and the future of Hyrule. They would certainly not have sent Link away if he had approached them with something, but other than his well-known insistence that Darion had to be dealt with, he had nothing of importance to say, so there was no real need to talk to the sages.

_I really have only been tagging along,_ he realized. _First with Narala, then Thallius, then Arnu. I'm not really important anymore, now that Darion's madness was proven for all to see. Everyone has matters well in hand – at least considering the circumstances._

This realization did not hurt Link's pride – he had always been a commoner, first a peasant, then a foot soldier, and he had no problem with that. If only it was not for the undeniable threat posed by Darion and the Triforce, he would be happy to fade back into obscurity, steal away during the night after the ceremony and return to his home village, never getting involved with politics and war again.

"Excuse me," a male voice sounded to his left. "Are you Link?"

"Yes, I am," Link said while turning around, and faced a tall, powerfully-built man of perhaps forty years, who was wearing a plain-looking leather vest and matching trousers that usually went under a suit of plate armour, identifying him as a knight.

_One of the last ones, actually._

"I am Captain Janos," the man introduced himself, "formerly third-in-command of the Knights of Hyrule. I have the regrettable distinction of being the highest-ranking officer left alive in Hyrule, so the sages have placed me in charge of our remaining soldiers. I would like to talk to you for a moment."

"Are you trying to recruit me back?" Link asked wearily. "Or do you want to court-martial me?"

"Neither," the man said with a cautious smile, "although I would gladly accept you back into the army – describing our current personnel situation as 'shortage' would be the height of understatement. However," he raised his hand, perhaps anticipating that Link was about to say 'No, thanks', "I will not pressure you into this. I came to talk to you about General Thallius. Sage Arnu told me you were present during his final moments. And since she was unconscious, you would seem to be the only one left who witnessed his death from up close – safe the man who murdered him, naturally." There was no hint of emotion on the captain's face, but his voice betrayed utter contempt for Darion. Or perhaps Link was merely projecting his own feeling on him?

_It's not like he has no reason to hate Darion_, he told himself. _There's not a person around here who hasn't._

"Actually, I told Arnu all about what happened," he said. "Not that I wouldn't gladly speak with you," he hurried to add.

"Ah, yes, in regards to Sage Arnu... she was a friend of the General's, and seemed uncomfortable talking about his death. Also, she was rather preoccupied with her various duties, so I... uhm..."

"So you went to see me, who has absolutely nothing to do," Link completed his sentence, and smirked ever so slightly to take the edge out of his words. "No problem."

"Thank you. Let's talk over there," Janos said and led Link a short distance away from the crowd of people who were patiently waiting for the requiem to begin.

"So I hear you fought at Death Mountain," he said in a casual tone, "while I was sitting here twiddling my thumbs."

"I'm afraid so," Link replied. He did not like being reminded of that battle. "But it's nothing I'm proud of."

"You should be," Janos said. "You don't have to put yourself down because you were fighting for an unjust cause. A soldier goes where he's ordered, and-"

"I'm not putting myself down," Link said sharply. "I'm over it. Thank you for your concern."

"As you wish," Janos replied, and an awkward silence settled between them.

_Didn't he want to talk about Thallius?_

"So, uh, what about the Gorons and the Zora?" Link asked. "Technically, we're still at war with them, right?"

"Not for much longer," Jonas said. "After your group arrived and the sages filled me in on what happened, I dispatched two of my men as emissaries, to offer our surrender."

"Surrender?"

"What else can we do?" Janos face was grim. "We are in no position to negotiate favourable conditions for peace. Even if we gathered all the remaining soldiers from the villages and outposts – and there aren't many left to begin with - we would not stand a chance if we were attacked. So the sages decided that surrender was our only option, and I agreed. We started this war, after all."

"Darion started it," Link pointed out.

"He was our prince." The captain shrugged. "He acted in all our names when he did what he did."

"That attitude is exactly why I won't be rejoining the army," Link said, trying to keep his voice level. "I want to be responsible for my own actions. Nothing more, nothing less."

"And I won't try to convince you otherwise, as I promised." Janos' tone made it clear that he disagreed with Link – how could he not? He was a career soldier, after all.

Link looked to the western sky, where the red circle of the sun was vanishing behind the horizon, not knowing what to make of this captain. "You wanted to talk about Thallius," he said.

"Yes, indeed. Would you recount his final moments for me?"

Link nodded and told the captain about Thallius' final act of defiance against Darion after finally seeing the true nature of his master – omitting his own opinion that it had been far too late by then. Janos' eyes lit up when he heard about his general's last stand, especially when Link quoted his words about a knight's duty to stand up against injustice and dishonour. It made Link realize that this was exactly what the captain had wanted to hear from him.

_Well, it's not like it isn't the truth, or anything_, he thought sourly. _But I'm pretty sure we'll have a case of hero worship on our hands here._

"Thank you for your story," Janos said once Link was done talking. "It has restored my resolve... which, I admit, has been wavering, ever since I learned of the destruction of our order. Did you know there are only eight of us left, myself included?" He shook his head, banishing his regret, and raised a clenched fist.

"But this is not the end! General Thallius' valiant last stand will inspire future generations of knights for centuries to come, as it has inspired me."

"That's nice," Link said, feeling awkward as usual whenever he was confronted with overbearing pathos.

"I shall take up his mantle of leadership, though I may not hope to ever match his gallantry," Janos continued, ignoring Link's lack of enthusiasm. "I shall rebuild the order, and see it become numerous again. To ensure that the future won't be as bleak as the present, the Knights of Hyrule are still needed."

"But we will have no future," Link said, sensing a chance to enlist the captain's aid. "Not as long as Darion is alive and at large, and has the whole Triforce. I want to do something about it, and I could use your help, and the help of your men. With their horses, we should be able to find him and-"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Janos asked. Then, less forceful: "I'm sorry, Link, but there are so few of us left that I can't risk their lives on a wild-goose-chase against a man who can kill them with a word as soon as he sees them. All we can do right now is rebuild our strength and trust in the protection of the Goddesses."

"They did a fine job protecting Keeptown!" Link blurted out. "They probably don't even exist!"

"You should watch your words, Link," Janos warned him and pointed at the crowd of people assembled around the Goddess statues. "I'm pretty tolerant of all kinds of strange talk, but the people may not take such blasphemy lightly."

"So you won't help me."

"Doing what? Aimlessly stumbling through Hyrule in the vain hope that you catch Darion while he's asleep?"

"It doesn't sound like much of a plan, if you put it like that," Link admitted. "But it's still better than doing nothing!"

Janos rubbed his chin and remained silent, probably looking for something to say that would assuage Link without belittling him. His gaze wandered past Link's head to the place of the ceremony and paused there.

"The requiem is about to start," he said and pointed at the short, robed man who was now standing next to the trio of statues. "It looks like the chaplain finally memorized his lines – he's utterly incapable of improvising." He gave Link a conciliatory smile. "Do you still plan to attend the ceremony? There's no point in excluding yourself, you know."

"It's not like I have anything better to do," Link grumbled and followed the captain back to the congregation, where they resumed their places in the first row. It was all but night now, and torches were being lit. Their light flickered across the pale and tired, yet hopeful faces of the survivors, who were clearly expecting some kind of closure from the coming ceremony.

The chaplain began to speak, his voice slightly nasal, but loud enough to be understood by all. He said nothing Link had not heard many times before – that death was not the end, that the goddesses were merciful, and that the departed would surely ascend to heaven as long as the prayers of the survivors were with them. His words sounded increasingly hollow to Link, but he still went through the motions, folding his hands and mumbling a ritualized answer at the appropriate places.

_I'll take a horse later tonight and look for Darion by myself_,he thought as the ceremony drew to a close and the chaplain burned an offering of incense in front of the Goddess statues. _It's a fool's errand, but it's the only thing I can do._

A dark-robed figure emerged from the first row, and Link saw that it was Arnu. The old sage positioned herself next to the statues, on the other side of the chaplain, and produced a small, blue musical instrument. Short-lived whispers arose when she put it to her mouth and began to play a somber melody, its melancholy tunes perfectly appropriate to the occasion. Her song created a soothing atmosphere, and for a short while, even Link allowed himself to forget about the horrid events of the past days.

"Before we part ways, let us now pray for the continued blessings of the Goddesses," the chaplain intoned once the music ceased. "May they lend us the strength to persevere through these dark times."

"WE SHALL LEND YOU MORE THAN STRENGTH."

The female voice that had come from the position of the three statues was loud and commanding, and perhaps it was only the hints of a gentle, maternal undertone that prevented a panic among the congregation. The statues themselves were suddenly alight with a golden glow, and it seemed that the facial features the sculptor had only hinted at were somehow more defined than before. Frightened murmurs rose all around Link

"DON'T BE AFRAID," a second voice said, similar to the first, but somehow distinguishable from it.

"WE ARE THE GODDESSES WHO CREATED THIS LAND," a third voice announced. As soon as she had said this, the majority of the attendees dropped to their knees in religious awe, while only a few remained standing, Link among them – not so much out of irreverence, but out of surprise.

_Well, I'll be damned..._

"IT WAS WITH IMMEASURABLE GRIEF THAT WE BEHELD THE DESTRUCTION WROUGHT WITH OUR OWN POWER."

"Then why did you allow it?"

A woman had separated from the crowd and taken several steps toward the glowing statues – it was the woman who Link and Arnu had encountered among the remainders of Keeptown, searching for her family, Link realized. Fearful voices tried to dissuade her, and several arms reached out to drag her back in line, but she angrily struggled against them and broke free.

"Why didn't you prevent this?" she demanded. "What kind of gods are you?"

_I couldn't have phrased it better myself._

"WHEN WE CREATED THIS WORLD," one of the voices intoned, "WE VOWED TO NEVER INTERFERE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MORTALS, TO SEE THEM LIVE THEIR LIVES UNMOLESTED BY OUR POWER."

"Then why did you leave this... this _thing_ here?" Another woman stepped forth, her shivering voice indicating that she was close to tears. She pointed at the Triforce emblem sewed in the banner lying on the ground. "Why?"

"WE HID AWAY THE TRIFORCE IN THE SACRED REALM, THERE TO RESPOND TO THE PRAYERS AND WISHES OF THE PEOPLE OF HYRULE, AND TO ENSURE THE EVERLASTING PROVIDENCE OF THIS LAND. IT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE FOUND."

"NOR WAS IT MEANT TO BE USED," one of the other Goddesses added. "THEREFORE, WE DID NOT IMPART ON IT THE KNOWLEDGE TO TELL GOOD FROM EVIL. THE FAULT FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU LIES IN PART WITH US. WE CAN BUT ASK FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS."

The notion of the omnipotent Goddesses asking _them_ for forgiveness was enough to make both of the women fall into confused silence, as well as any others who might have shared their sentiments. Even Link had to forego his recently acquired cynicism and respect their humility – although part of him still did not believe that this epiphany was real, suspecting that the incense-laden smoke was somehow giving them all hallucinations.

"BUT WE SHALL NOT MERELY BEG YOUR FORGIVENESS. WE ALSO WISH TO MAKE AMENDS."

_Yes! Destroy Darion! Oh, the look on his face when he realizes how screwed he is!_

"WE SWORE LONG AGO NEVER TO DIRECTLY INTERFERE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MORTALS, FOR WE BELIEVED THAT THEY SHOULD MAKE THEIR OWN DESTINY."

"YET DUE TO OUR CARELESSNESS, YOU HAVE NOW LOST THAT POWER. YOU LIVE TREMBLING IN THE SHADOW OF THE TRIFORCE, NEVER KNOWING WHETHER YOUR NEXT MOMENT WILL BE YOUR LAST. WE CANNOT ALLOW THIS TO CONTINUE."

"WE SHALL NOT STRIKE DOWN THE ONE WHO SEIZED THE TRIFORCE..."

_Bah. Weak._

"...BUT WE SHALL GIVE YOU THE POWER TO DO IT YOURSELVES."

_Now that sounds interesting._

A sudden flash of light illuminated the night sky, and a sound like that of a giant bell tolling echoed through the air. Link's face turned upward, along with everybody else's, and he beheld a silvery object descending from the heavens, sparkling with an unnatural radiance as it approached the earth. Closer and closer it moved toward the ground, its true shape hidden behind a prism of light, and it was only when it touched the ground halfway between the glowing statues and the gasping Hylians that the light faded and the object became recognizable.

It was a sword, three or four feet long, its double-edged blade emerging from an elaborate blue hilt. Its tip gently slid into the soil, burying itself several inches deep, its hilt beckoning for someone to remove it from the earth.

"BEHOLD THE INSTRUMENT OF YOUR DELIVERANCE, THE BLADE OF EVIL'S BANE. THIS SWORD SHALL PROTECT ITS WIELDER AGAINST THE POWER OF THE GODS, AND SHALL CUT THROUGH ANY WARD OR SHIELD CREATED BY THE TRIFORCE."

"WE GRANT IT TO YOU IN COMPENSATION, TO GIVE YOU A FIGHTING CHANCE AGAINST THE TRIFORCE BEARER. WITH IT, YOU SHALL ONCE AGAIN BECOME MASTERS OF YOUR OWN DESTINY. THEREFORE, WE NAME THIS BLADE THE MASTER SWORD."

"IF THERE IS AMONG YOU A HERO WHO WOULD RISE UP TO CHALLENGE FATE, LET HIM STEP FORTH AND RECEIVE THIS BLADE WITH OUR BLESSINGS."

Just like all the others, Link had listened to the words of the Goddesses with undivided attention, and watched the sacred sword descend to the earth in awe. A single thought overcame him now; a powerful realization that could not be denied.

_This sword is for me._

There was no time to be humble, or considerate, or self-conscious. Link's body moved on its own accord and departed from the rows of awed listeners, marching forward with wide-reaching steps, his eyes fixed on the sword from heaven. Let the others say what they would; he could not hesitate. He knew that he was far better off than those who had died in Darion's wake, and not in a hundred years would he have claimed that the pain and suffering he had gone through entitled him to anything in compensation – except for this sword. No, not the sword itself, but the chance to set things right, to return peace to the land and to his own mind.

Murmurs arose behind Link as he approached the sword. Somebody shouted that he should stop. The sounds of footsteps warned him that others were following him. But they all were too late: He had reached the sword, seized its hilt and effortlessly withdrew it from the earth, its blade unblemished by the soil. Then he turned around and raised it high into the air, and the golden light of the Goddess statues was reflected on its polished blade. The sight was enough to stop the few men who had followed him in their tracks, and effected loud gasping among the rest.

"Here I am."

"YOU WHO WOULD BECOME A HERO, WE RECOGNIZE YOU AND GRANT YOU OUR BLESSINGS."

"WE SHALL IMBUE THIS BLADE WITH LIGHT, SO THAT EVIL ONES MAY NEVER TOUCH IT."

"THE MASTER SWORD SHALL RETAIN ITS POWER FOR AS LONG AS THE FAITHFUL SAY THEIR PRAYERS."

A golden shine enveloped the Master Sword, no longer merely light reflected from the statues, but emanating from the blade itself. Dazzled, Link averted his head until the light vanished again. He noticed that an ornate blue scabbard had appeared on his belt, next to the leather one containing his old sword, and after checking that it was properly secured, Link placed the Master Sword inside.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Now I can finally _do_ something."

"THIS IS ALL THE HELP WE CAN GIVE YOU. WE SHALL WITHDRAW FROM THESE VESSELS NOW."

"Wait a second!" Arnu was still standing right next to the statues and put her hands over one of them as though that would prevent the Goddesses from departing. "I have a question before you leave," she said, her voice demanding as if she was talking to a servant. "Why did Prince Darion go mad?"

"OUR WATCHFUL EYES SEE ALL THAT HAPPENS IN THIS WORLD," one of the Goddesses answered, "BUT EVEN WE CANNOT PEER INTO THE HEARTS OF MEN. THE PRINCE'S REASONS ARE HIS OWN, TO REVEAL OR CONCEAL AS HE SEES FIT."

"Hmpf." Arnu withdrew her hands from the statue's head. "Thanks for nothing, then." Several outraged voices protested her casual blasphemy, but the Goddesses were not so easily offended.

It suddenly occurred to Link that even with this Master Sword, he had no idea where to go. "I have a question, too," he blurted out while he still had the chance. "Where is Darion now?"

For the first time, the voices of the Goddesses hesitated, perhaps because they were unsure whether to tell him or not.

"HE IS TRAVELING TOWARD GERUDO DESERT. MORE, WE CANNOT SAY."

"The desert?" Link moaned. "Of all the places to hide in..." He had never been to the blasted wasteland to the west, but its reputation preceded it. And while the merciless heat, the unrelenting wind and the absence of water might appear as minor nuisances when measured to Darion, who was bound to be a powerful enemy even with the Triforce compensated for, they certainly would not make things easier.

_There's no turning back now_, he told himself. _Nobody ever said becoming a hero would be easy._

"WE SHALL LEAVE YOU NOW," one of the Goddesses said, "AND WATCH YOUR ACTIONS WITH GREAT INTEREST."

"THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE HAVE MEDDLED WITH THE WORLD SINCE ITS CREATION. WE HOPE THAT THE NEED SHALL NEVER ARISE AGAIN."

"FAREWELL."

The golden light vanished from the statues, and they were lifeless once more. An awed silence settled over the place, and slowly, the people who had knelt rose again. Link felt hundreds of pairs of eyes resting on him, as if they expected him to do or say something. He cast a nervous glance at Arnu, but the Sage of Shadow responded to his silent call for help with a smile that that seemed to say 'You wanted this, so don't complain about the attention'.

_Why, thanks a lot._

"What the hell were you thinking?" an outraged voice sounded behind him, and Link turned around. Captain Janos was standing there, his arms put against his sides and his face red. "You're just some kid!" he exclaimed, his voice just short of yelling. "What made you think you could just take the sword?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Link asked, feigning innocence.

"You damn well know there's a problem with that," Janos ranted. "I appreciate that you wanted to volunteer, but at least you had to wait until the people in charge-"

"You can't wait for destiny to fall into your lap," Link interrupted him. "You have to walk up to it and seize it. And that's what I did." His words did not serve to lessen the captain's anger.

"You are so full of yourself! A cocky kid like you could never defeat Prince Darion! Who gave you the right to just go and snatch the sword?"

"Everybody here did," Link answered, "by not taking it before me."

"Why, you little-"

"And the Goddesses themselves had no objections," Link played his trump card with a smug grin. "I believe they even gave me their blessings."

"You... this... argh!" Janos stomped his foot on the ground. "I can't believe it!"

"Leave him alone!" somebody exlaimed.

"He has the right to the sword!"

"You're just jealous!"

Janos stuttered wordlessly, his face no longer red only with anger, but also with embarrassment. Link almost felt sorry for him – he had not meant to humiliate him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to mock you. I don't want to be your enemy. But this matter is decided." He extended his left hand. "Peace?"

Janos stared at his open palm, and for a moment it seemed as if he was going to slap it. Then he seized it, shook it for a quarter of a second, and nodded begrudgingly.

"Fine. But my knights and I will accompany you, to make sure you don't foul it up."

"No," Link shook his head. "I'll go alone."

"But you just requested our help half an hour ago!"

"Because we would have needed as many people as we could in order to cover more ground. Now we know where Darion is going."

"He's going to the desert!" Janos exlaimed and wrung his hands. "Don't pretend you'll be able to track him there!"

"I'll enlist the help of the Gerudo." The idea had come suddenly, but it had merit. "Killing Darion should be in their interest, too."

"The Gerudo are savages!" Janos protested. "They hate us Hylians!"

"All the more reason not to come with an escort of knights, don't you think? Also, they're not savages. At least not all of them." He recalled the two female thieves whom he had met in the Keep's vault. They had not exactly been cordial, but reasonable enough..

_Of course they're most likely dead, or else Darion could not have gotten their Triforce piece. Too bad, really._

"I'll explain the situation to them and ask them nicely. And if they won't help me, I... I'll come up with something."

"Come up. With something." Janos snorted. "Of course."

"I'm glad that you agree," Link said with a smile, taking his words at face value. "Now could I ask you to borrow one of your horses?"

"But of course!" Janos said and made a mocking bow. "Anything else for the hero? A suit of plate armour perhaps? Or a crossbow, for taking potshots at vultures?"

"I can't use bows," Link said without batting an eye, "and I'd die from sunstroke if I were to wear plate armour." He hesitated, then grinned. "But I could use a new shield. And supplies. And lots and lots of waterskins."

"Do you even realized how strained our food supplies are? We can't just-"

"Ahem-mhm."

Both Link and Janos turned around, and saw the four sages standing behind them. Many of the refugees had approached them, too, casting curious glances at Link, but they kept a respectful distance.

"Ahem," Kaepora cleared his throat again. "Of course we are well aware of our supply situation, Captain. But we insist that you outfit this young man here to the best of your capabilities. We can always petition the nearby villages for food and water if it comes to that."

"So you support this crazy adventure?" Janos asked incredulously.

"We do not think it's crazy," the orange-robed sage said. _Rauru was his name_, Link recalled. His voice was hoarse and his eyes watery, and he remembered seeing him cry during the requiem. "We have agreed to vest our hopes in this young man." He looked at Link and nodded. Link nodded back.

"Is that a majority decision?"

"It is," Arnu said. "Unanimous, to be precise." She gave the captain a wry grin. "We couldn't _not_ support him even if we wanted to."

"Indeed!" Kasuto exclaimed with a rapt voice. "The Goddesses themselves have blessed him! And, more importantly..." She made a meaningful pause. "I have already seen in the future that he will succeed!"

"Uh... that's good to hear," Link said cautiously.

"Isn't it?"

"At least tell him not to go alone!" Janos pleaded with his superiors. "Send at least one man with him! It doesn't even have to be me, so you know it's not because I'm jealous! In a hostile environment like the desert, even one companion would hugely raise his chance for survival!"

"That is certainly true," Arnu said, "but you're forgetting something."

"What?"

"This 'Master Sword' has been promised to protect its bearer against the Triforce," Kaepora said, "and only the bearer. Or so we should assume. Whoever accompanied him would only be a drain on his supplies, and face certain death in the eventual confrontation with Darion." Janos began to protest, but Kaepora raised his hand to cut him off. "As it stands, we have barely enough people here to man the watchtowers. And you should be aware that monster activities are most prevalent in this area, mainly because of the Moblins that dwell in the mountains to the north."

"I _am_ aware of that, venerable sage."

"Splendid! Then, uh, young man... what was your name again?"

"Link."

"Link, hm-hm. What a curious name."

_Like you're one to talk, Kaepora Gaebora!_

"Well then, Link, when will you be ready to depart?"

"Tomorrow morning would be best, I think," Link said after pondering the question. "Preparations will take some time, and I want to be rested when I leave."

"Quite reasonable, yes." Kaepora nodded. "It is good to see that you won't be rushing headlong into danger. It seems that our trust is not misplaced."

"You can say that when he brings us Darion's head," Janos said. "Now, if that is all, please excuse me... _somebody_ has to take care of the preparations." Without waiting for an answer, the captain stomped off toward the garrison's main building, shaking his head and muttering to himself as he went.

"I sense some frustration in the good captain," Kaepora said once Janos was out of earshot.

"He's a professional," Arnu said. "He can take it. And he really is of more use to us here." She looked at Link. "Take out the Master Sword for a moment, please."

"Uh, sure," Link said, unsheathed the sword and held it in front of him. The grip was secure and the blade itself perfectly balanced, as was befitting a sword made by the gods. The outline of the Triforce had been graved into the blade close to the hilt, which gave Link a foreboding feeling.

_This thing better work as advertised_, he thought, _or I'm going to apostatize._

Arnu put one of her hands above the blade without actually touching it, mumbled a few words, and a weak purple glow appeared around the blade, only to vanish a second later.

"There," she said and withdrew her hand, "I put a tracking spell on it. If what the Goddesses said is true, Darion can't touch it, so even if you fail and die, one of us sages can retrieve it for another attempt."

_Even if I fail and die... how blunt. _Link re-sheathed the Master Sword. _But she's right – it is a possibility._

"It really was the Goddesses incarnate who spoke to us." Rauru's voice sounded like he still could not quite believe it. "I should have asked them... ah, never mind."

"Yes, the Goddesses themselvse," Kasuto said with awe. "That should put all these foolish townsfolk to rest who insist that they don't even exist!"

"We just put most of the townsfolk to rest," Arnu remarked dryly.

"I... I didn't..." Kasuto put her hand before her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Now, now, don't argue," Kaepora said and spread out his arms. "In fact, I think we should go inside now. We have many other matters to debate, and I'm sure Link still has things to do before he goes to sleep. Perhaps he even found a sweetheart on the way here, humm-hm."

Link thought of Kari back in Valhart and immediately blushed. "There isn't really... I mean... I haven't..."

"Youth," Arnu snorted. "Feeling embarrassed for the silliest things."

_Like I even have time for stuff like that..._

But Link knew that his business with Darion would soon be settled, one way or the other. If he failed... well, no use thinking about that. But if he succeeded, he would finally be going home, and as Hyrule's hero, no less. He would probably become quite popular then...

"I... I have to find somebody to spar with," Link said. "I have to get a feeling for this new sword. That's very important."

"Suit yourself." Arnu shrugged and looked at her colleagues. "It's getting cold. Let's go inside."

The sages walked past Link toward the closest building, leaving him alone in a crowd of people who wanted to take a closer look at their prospective hero.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I really don't have much time. I'd like to get some sparring done before I go to bed... I'll answer all of your questions once I come back. If you could let me through... thank you, thank you."

_On second thought, being popular could be bothersome_, Link thought as he made his way through the throngs of people toward the barracks, looking for someone to spar with.

* * *

When Link woke up, a short glance out of the room's window told him that it was still pitch dark, which meant he could not have slept all that much. In spite of that he felt perfectly refreshed, even with the hour or so that he had spent sparring with one of Janos' knights the evening before.

_And won a measly eight out of twenty bouts. I'm sure Darion would be trembling in fear if he knew I was coming for him._

Pushing away useless thoughts about a confrontation that was, at the very least, still several days off, Link rubbed his eyes and rose from his bed. A rattling noise very close by and a weight that dragged his left arm down reminded him of the Master Sword – he had tied it to his wrist with a chain before going to bed, just to be sure. He loosened the brand new blade from the chain and scabbarded it – lacking the luxury of a nightshirt, he had been sleeping in his clothes. Formerly green, they were now mostly greyish-brown, courtesy of dust, dirt and grime. His skin did not look much better than his clothes – he dreaded counting the days since his last bath.

_There won't be baths in the desert, either,_ he thought. _I'll just have to be a dirty hero._

_Wait, I'm not a hero yet._

The room Link had been sleeping in had once housed a dozen soldiers before the garrison had been almost completely disbanded, and was now overcrowded with refugees from Keeptown, so he tiptoed his way to the door, succeeding in not stepping on anybody. Feeling his way through the barracks' unlit corridor, he reached the exit and stepped outside. The air was pleasantly damp (that, too, would be different in the desert), but not too cold, and he breathed in deeply, happy to be out of the crammed, fuggy room. His horse was already waiting for him, tied to a nearby post in the ground, several large bags tied on its back behind the saddle. A man was standing next to the horse, holding the reins and stroking its mane. It was Captain Janos.

_It would be him, of course..._

"At least you rise early," the knight said in a neutral tone. "Maybe you're not a completely lost cause."

"Have you been waiting long?" Link asked.

"I just got here," Janos replied as Link took the reins out of his hands. "Thanks," he said.

"You have food and water for two weeks. After that, you better find an oasis." He pointed at the metal-rimmed shield hanging off the side of one of the packs. "I also got the shield you wanted – almost new, with barely a dent."

"Thanks," Link said again.

"Don't thank me," Janos said stiffly. "It's my duty."

"Oh. Of course." _Stupid. He didn't do it to be nice._

"Listen," the captain said and seized Link's shoulder, "I can still accompany you. I have a second horse ready to go any time."

_So that's what he wants._

"You... you wouldn't be saying that if you had seen what Darion did to Keeptown. With the Triforce, I mean. The Master Sword only protects one person, so you would just die a meaningless death."

"I'm not afraid to die."

"Didn't you catch the 'meaningless' part?"

"Touché. What about you?"

Link shrugged. "I know the risk. I won't go complaining if I get myself killed, I promise."

"That's not what I mean!" Janos shook Link's shoulder. "Look, I'm not as much of a jerk as you think I am. I don't actually want to hold you back – as long as you're going to try your hardest to succeed."

"What do you mean? Of course I'm going to try."

"You looked all brooding and depressed yesterday." Janos narrowed his eyes and brought his face closer to Link's. His breath smelled of chewing tobacco. "I want to know if this hero business of yours is just some fancy way to get yourself killed because of some stupid feeling of guilt or loneliness or something." His expression was serious, but his tone strangely sympathetic. "It's not like I wouldn't understand – life's been hell lately, for most of us. But I don't want to waste the horse and supplies on a fool with a death wish, not to mention the Master Sword. Do you understand?"

Link was a bit shocked at the captain's words – had he actually been looking _that_ depressed? There was not a hint of truth to his suspicions; he could say that with the greatest possible conviction: He was truly going to try and kill Darion, and do his best to come back alive. He still had _some_ things to live for, after all.

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to die. And I think I have a fair chance of winning."

"At least you're consistently cocky," Janos said, and his tension relaxed into a yellow-teethed smile. "Looks like the general wasn't wrong about you."

"Thallius? What did he say? And when?"

"A week or two ago," Janos said. "He told me he had met some kid who might make a passable knight – in fifteen or twenty years," he hurried to add. "So don't let it go to your head."

"I won't," Link replied. Janos nodded, and seemed to be done talking. "Time to leave," Link said and managed to climb into the saddle without making a fool of himself.

"I... I had a boy in Keeptown," Janos suddenly said. "He was about your age." He shook his head and turned around. "Bah, I'm babbling."

Not knowing what to say, Link seized the reins and gently steered the horse toward the garrison's western gate.

"Rip him to shreds, kid!" Janos called after him.

_I'm not a kid_, was what Link wanted to say. "Yes, Sir!" was what he shouted back instead. It felt stupid, considering that he had left the army behind, but he figured it was as good of a way to say goodbye as any, and 'thanks' as well.

_Not a bad fellow, really. You just have to get to know him a little._

When Link arrived at the western gate, he found it guarded by a civilian volunteer who let him pass with his best wishes. There was a semblance of a road in stretching in front of him, barely visible in the darkness, and he had been told to follow it due south west to reach the desert, consulting one of the numerous signposts if necessary. He did not get very far, however, before a dark-robed figure on the road forced him to a halt, to his moderate dismay.

_Are they sure they're not trying to stop me?_ he wondered.

"Before you say anything," he greeted Arnu, "tell me how many others are waiting after you. Perhaps Kaepora is sitting on a nearby tree?"

"Not very likely," the Sage of Shadow said. "He's not an early bird."

"So how did you know when I'd leave? Did you just wait all night?"

"Nothing so crude. I put an alarm ward at the entrance of your room." She scowled. "You took your time."

"Saying some farewells."

"Good for you. Anyway, there's something important I didn't tell you yet."

"You mean you forgot," Link corrected her.

"Don't mock me, boy. It isn't every day that you're talking to the Golden Goddesses. It put some things... into perspective."

"Were you losing your religion?"

"I may have lost it yesterday night," Arnu sighed. "But they seemed well-meaning, if a bit pompous. 'Masters of our own destiny', really? It's more like you're the master of our destiny now." She yawned without putting a hand in front of her mouth. "The fact that I'm not trembling in fear at the very prospect shows how much faith I have in you. Not that I know why."

"I seem to have that effect on people. Must be the hat," Link suggested.

"Heh. Perhaps. Anyway, about that thing I... forgot to tell you." She wet her lips with her tongue and made a step toward Link's horse.

"One of the soldiers in the dungeon with us who survived was actually with Darion and Malark when they went to get the Triforce. That was on the day of the king's death, when the two of us first met near that village. Anyway, I talked to him during our march yesterday. He said he hadn't been allowed to talk about it, but after Keeptown... well, he didn't give a damn about Darion's orders anymore."

"It would be unsettling if he did," Link remarked. "So what did he say?"

"He told me that the Triforce split into three when Darion made his first wish – which was about reviving his father, by the way, so you were right about that. At any rate, after he made his wish, the Triforce spoke to him, and everybody heard it – much to Darion's chagrin, I bet, but lucky for us."

"The Triforce can speak? That's... weird."

"Apparently, Darion's heart was not 'in balance' between the three virtues power, wisdom and courage."

"Yes, he never struck me as a very balanced individual."

"The Triforce agreed," Arnu chuckled, "and split itself into three pieces, with every piece representing one of these virtues. Darion got to keep only one of them, while the others went to Narala and that Goron you told me about."

"So that is how it happened."

"That is how it happend," Arnu nodded. "Now, picture the following situation: You defeat and kill Darion, and the Triforce remains behind, yearning for a new master. What do you do?"

"Uhm..." _I never thought about that, did I?_

"Uhm, indeed."

"I wouldn't go crazy or anything!"

"I didn't think you would. And I wouldn't have begrudged you a wish or two in reward for killing Darion – although in the future, access to the Triforce must never rest in the hands of a single person again. At any rate, now that we know how the Triforce works, you must not, under any circumstances, make a wish. Is that clear?"

"Because it may split again," Link said, understanding Arnu's fear.

"Indeed. No offence to you, but we have no idea whether you qualify as 'balanced' in the eyes of the Triforce, and I don't want to take any chances."

"Or else everything might start again – perhaps even worse, depending on who got the other pieces," Link nodded.

"I'm glad you're so understanding. Hell, I have a couple of wishes that I'd like to make – waking up Zelda, restoring Keeptown, resurrecting the people Darion killed..."

"Hey, hold it!" Link said. "I thought you were warning me not to wish for anything, not encourage me."

"Hmpf. Yes, I suppose I got carried away." Arnu smiled sadly. "But the Triforce could have been used for so much _good_! I spent twenty years trying to talk Artaxis into using it more frequently. He always told me that power corrupts... and I said that was nonsense." She looked up to Link. "I wonder, was I wrong?"

"I don't think Darion went 'corrupt' in such a short time span," Link told her. "And that's my real opinion, not some half-assed attempt at consoling."

"It better not be." Arnu shook one of her fists.

"It takes more than a couple of bad days for people to go crazy, or there wouldn't be a sane person left in Hyrule," Link continued.

"That is true. But still... If only we knew the reasons for Darion's madness..."

"Thallius already asked him about that, and he didn't answer."

"Perhaps it's better that way. Perhaps it's some petty, stupid reason that would make me hate him."

"You don't hate him now?" Link asked. "That's hard to believe."

"People are too quick to hate. I think I never hated anybody in my life – not even Malark, and he certainly tried his hardest. But you can still want a person dead, even if you don't hate them." Arnu hesitated and gulped audibly before she continued.

"Link, don't believe Darion if he tells you he feels sorry, or that he wants to make things right, or he has some secret plan for everything to turn out all right in the end. He may honestly believe something like this, but he's too far gone to be trusted, and he has done too much damage already. For the sake of everybody in Hyrule, including himself, he has to be put down."

"I know," Link said. "I will not hesitate."

"Good." Arnu breathed out deeply, as if a heavy burden had been taken from her. "And don't forget to bring the Triforce back with you!"

"Well, of course not. But how am I going to move it if I can't tell it to follow me?"

"Just tie it to your horse. I told Janos to put a rope in one of your bags."

"Dragging the Triforce through the desert like a plough." Link sighed. "How disrespectful."

"I'm sure the Goddesses won't mind," Arnu assured him. "Well, for my part, that would be everything."

"Good," Link nodded. "I'll see you then." He had his horse resume his trot.

"Oh, wait, one more thing," Arnu called out behind him.

"What?" He stopped again. "Something else you _forgot_?"

Arnu hesitated, as if she was unsure whether to actually say it. Then she spat it out.

"Good luck."

"Uh, thanks," Link said. _Was that such a big deal?_

"You may not know this," Arnu said in a lecturing tone, "but this is the first time I've ever wished 'good luck' to somebody – I actually hate that expression. It has the taste of fatalism." She sighed. "But considering what is at stake, I thought I'd make a once-in-a-lifetime-exception."

"We are truly living in historical times," Link smirked.

"You're mocking an old woman at your own peril," Arnu said. "But I won't delay you any longer. It's almost sunset, and you should be gone before first daylight."

"Where are you getting this thing about sunset from?" Link asked. "It's pitch dark! I can barely see a thing."

"They say that the night is darkest just before the dawn," Arnu said meaningfully, then shook her head and laughed. "Damn it, I'm good." Link laughed, too, and with a flick of the reins and a wave of his hand, he was on his way to Gerudo Desert.


	36. His Feeble Cousins

**Chapter 36: His Feeble Cousins**

The heat of the desert was tremendous, as one would have expected it to be, and Malark's new body was drenched in sweat – a sensation he had not felt for quite a few decades during his physically undemanding lifestyle as a sage. The wind was blowing in his face, forcing him to keep his head down unless he wanted to keep peeling grains of sand out of his eyes. He was still wearing the white robe Darion had conjured for his 'coronation', but he was grateful for it now: Wearing his usual black in the desert only would have made things worse. It was still bad enough, especially since the polished surface of the Triforce floating next to him kept reflecting the rays of the sun into Malark's face as it slowly rotated around its own axis.

The smell was terrible, too, even though they were outside in the open. The three hundred Moblins marching around Malark were sweating even more than he was, and even for a man who had dabbled in all kinds of unsavoury magic during his life, the stench was almost more than his nostrils could take. His ears were under constant assault as well, not only from the howling wind, but also the marching tune sung by the Moblins – although he had his doubts whether one could use the word 'sing' to describe their grunting chants. He could have stopped the singing, at least, but then he would be forced to put up with a constant barrage of grumbling complaints that not even the threat of a couple of exemplary killings would be able to quell, most Moblins being as dense as they were. In the end, Malark did what he had learned during his long servitude to the Hylians: He endured patiently.

_Let them sing,_ he thought. _At least that way, they won't be able to keep asking 'Are we there yet?'_

The Moblins employed no pack-animals, but simply dragged their food and water supplies behind them on primitive wooden sleds. If it had been his wish, Malark could have seated himself on one of those sleds and let himself be pulled, but that would have given the impression of weakness. Even with a personal guard of six skeletal Moblins at his side, it would have been a bad idea to betray weakness in front of a horde of monsters who valued strength above all else.

_They won't turn on me that easily, though. Not after I've already given them enemies to fight, and the prospect of fighting even more._

Malark remembered the foolish Gerudo who had tried to bar his way at the desert entrance. If they had just stayed hidden in their little fortress, he and his Moblin army would simply have walked past them and into the desert. But no, they just had to play the heroes, had to close the gate that was the only way through the rock formation enclosing the desert and try to stop them from proceeding on their path.

Such recalcitrance could not be permitted, of course, and with great zeal, the Moblins had executed Malark's order to flush out the Gerudo before opening the gate. According do Unthok's post-battle assessment, only the formidable fighting skills of the defenders and the narrowness of the fortress corridors had prevented the battle from becoming a one-sided slaughter. The end had been the same, though: When the fighting was done, almost all of the hundred-or-so Gerudo defenders lay dead, safe the ones who had been spared for interrogation, compared to only two dozen Moblin casualties.

"Good fight," Unthok had summed it up. "More like that, please."

In his boundless generosity, and because he wanted to prevent unnecessary attrition, Malark had even deigned to heal any non-fatal wounds the Moblins had suffered, and even a couple of near-fatal ones. That, too, had raised his stock in the eyes of the monsters, who, while generally unafraid of death, still preferred to live so they could fight more.

Malark was roused from his recollection when the singing began to fade, one Moblin voice after the other dropping out of the questionable choir and started muttering in their incomprehensible language. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he looked up ahead to see what the commotion was about, and saw a tall, black outline on the horizon, surrounded by a number of small, white spots. It was a small city of tents, surrounding his destination – the large statue called the 'Desert Colossus' that housed the Spirit Temple. After a little bit of 'conviction', the Gerudo captives had been quite forthcoming with information about its location, even though they considered it a sacred place dedicated to their Sand Goddess. They had warned Malark about her wrath, but he had shrugged off their warnings like the superstition of desert rabble that they were, and visited upon them the same fate as their fallen brothers and sisters.

_They didn't show much promise at all. Perhaps their kinsmen up ahead will be more cooperative. If not... too bad for them._

"Hey, wizard! Do you see it?"

The Moblin King, who had been marching at the forefront of his army, had stopped moving and allowed his fellow monsters to overtake him, until Malark and his escort reached his position. With a wave of his hand, Malark had one of his personal guard step aside and make room for Unthok to approach, and the Moblin King came as close as he knew he could come before Malark would unleash fiery hell on him. He was not wearing his usual plate armour, only a flimsy mail shirt that protected his upper body without giving him a sunstroke.

"We're almost there," he said and flashed his grin. "I'm so excited!"

"You will not attack unless I give the order," Malark reminded him. "Make sure to convey that to your underlings as well."

"Bah. I know." Unthok was displeased. "But if they attack first?"

"Then you may defend yourselves," Malark said graciously.

"Oh, thanks."

"You're welcome."

In spite of his penchant for quips and general disrespect, Malark was quite pleased with Unthok's performance. In the past ten years, he had only rarely called upon the services of the Moblin King, mostly when he needed to get some dirty work done that he could not or did not want to do himself. But ever since setting his eyes on the Triforce, he had proven to be quite dependable. Not _loyal_, of course – Malark was not a man who inspired loyalty, and did not aspire to be one. But Unthok had the admirable quality of getting things done with a minimum of stupid questions and micromanagement, and that was all Malark asked for.

_Perhaps I'll even keep him around after I coax the Triforce into obeying me,_ he thought. _I'll still need an enforcer to snuff out opposition, at least until I have whipped the Sheikah into shape. I couldn't possibly be bothered to use the Triforce against every little revolt or uprising – there is such a thing as overkill, after all._

Malark ordered Unthok to change the army's marching order, placing himself and his Stalfos guard at the forefront, while the Moblins fell in line behind them, forming a three-tiered formation. His guards would repel any surprise attackers long enough for him to take action, and the strong sidewind would serve well to protect him against arrows, should any be fired. However, Malark hoped that the Gerudo would be open to talks – perhaps due to their common ancestry, he felt a weak, but noticeable attachment to them, like to a mentally retarded cousin. Not that this attachment had prevented him from killing them at Gerudo Fortress, nor ordering the death of their king a few weeks ago, but he still intended to salvage some of them, assuming they would allow themselves to be salvaged.

_I'll have to go through the effort of reeducating the Sheikah, anyway. Throwing a couple of desert rats into the mix should provide me with some variety._

The closer they came, the larger the outline of the Desert Colossus became – it was now recognizable as a large female statue that had been carved into a massive monolith. A small oasis adjacent to it formed the centre of the tent city that was huddled against the enormous idol.

"They can see us now," Unthok said next to Malark. "Look how they scurry!"

The Moblin King was right – they had come close enough to see details now. A great commotion was underway among the tents, with countless shapes running all over the place in anticipation of an attack. A horn was sounded, and as Malark's group came closer and closer, a defensive line of Gerudo warriors took shape. The men – they were men, all of them – looked just like their foolish brethren at the fortress: Sporting the short, red hair that was so prevalent among their kind, wielding heavy sabres while wearing little in terms of armour. Malark estimated their number at about five hundred, but was not worried about being outnumbered – after all, every single Moblin was twice as massive as the wiry desert dwellers, and they were itching for another chance at bloodshed, while the Gerudo could be nothing but anxious about the sudden appearance of an army of monsters at their doorstep. Even so, they awaited Malark and his army in complete silence, a testament to their discipline, if nothing else.

"Have your minions stop at thirty feet distance," he told Unthok, who relayed his master's will to his fellow Moblins with a short bark. When the Moblins stopped, Malark ordered all but two of his Stalfos to hold their positions and continued to walk until he reached the halfway point between the two opposing armies, the Triforce faithfully at his side. The meaning of his gesture was clear, and after a short commotion in the Gerudo ranks, their line parted, and three men approached Malark's position, stopping five feet in front of him; two of them were warriors, one was unarmed.

_Look who we have here,_ Malark thought when he recognized the unarmed man, _the king of the meek. I wonder if he remembers my face... agh, stupid. My face isn't my face anymore._

"What do you seek in our desert, stranger?" the Gerudo King asked without introducing himself; his inflection one of controlled hostility. "And why did you bring these abominations with you?" His eyes wandered over the two Moblin-Stalfos, but did not remain on them for long. Malark saw superstitious fear in them. Next to these walking dead, the Triforce seemed the lesser wonder, for he did not comment on it. Instead, he focused his gaze on Malark once again.

"Wait... it's you!" Garanth's eyes opened wide in recognition. "But why are you with these monsters... no matter. Listen to me, your highness, I had absolutely nothing to do with your father's death!"

_Well, that was to be expected – he thinks I am Darion. Let's clear up this little misunderstanding as quickly as possible._

"I am not who you think I am," Malark said. "Although we have met before." He used a spell that superimposed his old voice over that of Darion. "My name is Malark," he repeated his introduction from when he had first met Garanth. "I am in the employ and the confidence of his majesty." He smiled. "Before I killed him, that is."

Malark was pleased to hear his own voice again, even though the spell was straining and he could not keep it up for long. Garanth, on the other hand, was visibly shocked.

"How is this possible?" he asked, his eyes even wider than before. "Black magic...?"

"Quite so." Malark returned to Darion's voice.

"This... this is..." Garath was at a loss for words.

"Blasphemy?" Malark suggested. "Or abomination, like you called my escort?" He rubbed his chin and assumed a musing tone. "Which one is worse, I wonder, blasphemy or abomination? How do you people categorize these things? Is there a science to it?"

"Did you come here to mock us or to parley with us?" Garanth asked sharply, his revulsion overcome by anger.

"Getting down to business so fast?" Malark pursed his lips. "But I wanted us to reminisce about the good times we had! So good, in fact, that you ordered my death," he said casually, remembering the revelation from the two women who had dug up his corpse. The Gerudo King was visibly shocked, but quickly regained his composure.

"If you know about it, that means Koume and Kotake are dead."

"Your perceptive honour guard?" Malark recalled the young Gerudo women who had so bluntly asked him about his loyalties almost as soon as they had met him. "I didn't so much as touch them! Although I doubt they are still alive, since Unthok took the Triforce piece from them." He shrugged. "So you don't deny it?"

"Why should I?" Garanth asked. "You ordered my death, too!"

"Excellent!" Malark exclaimed, delighted that the Gerudo King had seen the hand behind the warden's assistant come to kill him, back in his cell.

"But I also saved your life," he smiled, "by luring Darion away from the dungeon, even though my spell told me that you were eavesdropping nearby."

"That much was obvious," Garanth nodded. "But don't expect my gratitude."

"Nobody appreciates anything I do for them," Malark sighed. "So why not have your two minions here try and kill me?"

"Because you brought an army of monsters with you," Garanth replied, "who would presumably attack us even in the event of your death. And I would rather avoid bloodshed." His expression hardened as a thought came to him. "What did you do to the people at the fortress?"

"They tried to stop us, so we had to fight them to pass through the gate. But most of them are still able to walk on their own two feet," Malark said truthfully.

"I have a hard time believing that," Garanth said, but did not press the issue further. "At any rate, you admitted to the murder of King Artaxis, and you stole the body of his son. Thus, I will assume that you're not speaking for the Hylians."

"I speak for myself," Malark said. It was answer enough.

"So what do you want here?" Garanth demanded. "This is our home!"

"Tell me, do you remember the monumental history of this place?" Malark asked and stretched out his arm, pointing at the Desert Colossus that loomed nearby. "Do you remember what happened here eight hundred years ago?"

"Our oral history doesn't go back that far," Garanth replied. "Why do you ask?"

"What a pity." _What did I expect from this rabble? Ah, but perhaps they can be taught._

"Allow me to educate you," Malark said, and related to the Gerudo King the tale of the Sheikahs' glorious past and the Gerudos' cowardly betrayal. The king and his guards listened with keen interest, but their faces showed no signs of belief or disbelief.

"Is _that_ why you're here?" Garanth asked incredulously once Malark had finished. "To punish us for the perceived sins of our ancestors?"

_Do I really appear that vindictive?_

"Nonsense," Malark said. "I do not hold grudges against the dead. As far as I am concerned, they punished themselves by selling out the Sheikah – they condemned themselves and their ancestors to a life in this godforsaken desert."

"Then why did you tell me this story in the first place?"

"Because I wished to remind you that we have a common enemy," Malark said. "The Hylians!" He glanced at the Triforce floating next to him. "I have the power to enslave them, but in order to unlock it, I require access to this statue, and the secrets hidden therein."

"Secrets... hidden within the Spirit Temple?" Garanth exchanged short glances with his guards. "That's new to us. You see, it is a sacred place to our people," he told Malark. "But even if you're speaking the truth, I would never allow you to use its hidden power to cause suffering and destruction!" His voice brimmed with conviction and self-righteousness. Malark could not believe it.

"You would not welcome the downfall of the Hylians?" he asked, just to make sure. "You would not seize this chance for revenge?"

"Of course not! We wish to improve our lives, but we are not murderers! We don't wish anybody's downfall, nor do we desire revenge!"

"Pathetic." Malark shook his head in disgust, then he looked over Garanth's shoulders at the Gerudo warriors lined up. "But I wonder... do you speak for all of your people?"

"I am confident that they share my ideals," the Gerudo King said, and shared silent looks with his guards, who simply nodded. "But by all means, see for yourself." He turned around and addressed his warriors, while his guards kept their eyes on Malark.

"This man has come to our home to offer us a pact," Garanth shouted loud enough for even the Gerudo at the edge of the formation to understand. "He is an enemy of the Hylians, and he asks for our help to enslave them. For my part, I shall refuse him always, but I am merely first among equals, not your lord and master."

Garanth paused to clear his throat. No murmurs broke out. Nobody whispered. The Gerudo patiently waited for their king to continue.

"If there are those among you who wish to follow this man under the banner of hatred and vengeance, let them step forth. They will be allowed to leave our ranks unmolested, and join this blasphemous army – but they will no longer be permitted to call themselves by the proud name of the Gerudo."

The silence continued. Not a single Gerudo warrior moved an inch. Garanth turned around and smiled at Malark. "Does that answer your question?"

"Bah! Ridiculous!" Malark put his palm against his forehead. "I was wrong to harbour great expectations for you mongrels. I wouldn't have thought that there were people out there more servile and degenerate than the Sheikah." He spat out at Garanth's feet. "You've proven me wrong."

"You shouldn't spit in the desert," Garanth said calmly. "It's a waste of water."

"So you chose the path of your own destruction." Malark passed over his advice. "If that's what you really want..."

The prospect of a bloody and hopeless battle against Malark's army wiped the smugness off the Gerudo King's face. "Wait!" he shouted. "Don't do this! There must be another way!"

"Another way to do what? Remove you and your herd of sheep?"

"To address your grievances with the Hylians!" the Gerudo King shouted.

"What on earth are you babbling about?"

"I am appealing to your conscience!"

"My... conscience?" Malark asked. "What, am I supposed to laugh?"

"Listen to me, man! Malark!" Garanth looked at him intently. "Do the Hylians of today know about the story you told us?"

"What are you driving at?" Malark asked, suspicious of the Gerudo King's sudden shift in tone.

"Just answer me!"

_Why does he want to know that? Is there still a chance... no, he has made up his mind._

"Archives do not forget," Malark replied, though he knew not why. "Secret records survived even from that time – with a Hylian slant, of course, painting the Sheikah as the villains." He had read one such document shortly after learning about his people's history, and the brazen lies told by Hylian historians had only fueled his hatred. "But until this day, the common people do not know, and neither do most of the Sheikah." He shivered. "Their blissful ignorance made everything even worse."

"Then why didn't you tell the people the truth?"

"Tell the people? Are you jesting?" Malark knew that he should just walk away and have Unthok wipe these fools out, but he somehow felt compelled to justify his actions. "Do you think the Hylians would have said 'Oh, our bad! Let's bygones be bygones! We release you from your fealty!' How naive can you be?"

"You mean you never even tried?" Garanth sounded honestly dumbfounded. "You kept that knowledge to yourself and allowed hatred to eat at you in the shadow for your whole life, convincing yourself that everybody except you was evil? Not even once did you try to share your knowledge with anyone?"

The Gerudo King's words brought back bits of memory from decades ago, from a time when Malark had not yet believed that he would have to fight his battle alone. He did not like to remember that time, since he despised his younger self for his weakness.

"I tried... once." _Why am I telling him this?_ "I told one of my students all about our history, and made subtle overtures to her. But she berated me for 'being chained to the past', and told me to embrace our service to the Royal Family! Our _service_!" Almost forty years past, and still Malark recalled the exact words which Arnu had used to reject her people's legacy with the wave of a hand. "I pretended it was all a joke, and said nothing more of it ever again. But she distrusted and disliked me ever since."

"And you never attempted to reach out to somebody after that?"

"Don't make it sound like an emotional problem!" Malark barked. "I merely made a realistic assessment of the future. I could not convince even one moderately intelligent Sheikah – do you think the others would have listened to me? Let alone the Hylians? I was armed with the truth, but it proved a blunt and useless weapon. No power in the world can make people accept the truth if they don't want to!"

"You can't judge an entire society by the reaction of one person!"

"Don't tell me anything about _society_!" Malark shouted. "You savages barely even have something that can be called 'society'!" Garanth did not react to the insult directed at his people, and expectantly looked at Malark, as thought the better part of his explanation was yet to come.

_Is he being deliberately obtuse? Is he trying to anger me? Or simply stalling for time?_

"The Hylians are fine with the current state of things," Malark continued against his better judgement. "The Sheikah are fine with it, too. Do you seriously think if I had climbed a soapbox and taught them some history lessons from eight hundred years ago, they would have changed their way of thinking?"

"Not immediately, of course," the Gerudo King conceded. "But you could have started a movement! A few people would have believed you, at the very least. Success might have come only generations after your death, but it _could_ have come!"

_So that's where he's coming from. But he can't be serious, can he?_

"You would have me entrust my cause to unborn disciples whose aptitude I cannot even begin to guess? To the descendants of my descendants, who might dismiss my lessons as the rantings of a fool long since dead? To descendants who, even if they persisted in their resolve, might well be destroyed while I am rotting in my grave, powerless to change a thing? You would seriously have me put all my hopes in future generations?"

Garanth looked at Malark as if what he had just described was perfectly normal. "That is the way of progress," he said.

"But it is not my way!" Malark snarled. "I will force my will on the world! I will free the Sheikah from the yoke that they cannot even see, and forge them into a people worthy of that name! And I'll do it myself, in the present! I'll not leave a dubious legacy for some uncertain future."

"If you have no hope for the future, then there is no hope for you."

The Gerudo King's self-important way of talking reminded Malark of Arnu, and he wanted to lash out at the man. Not kill him – nothing so simple – but show him just how wrong he was.

"You speak of hope," he said and chuckled. "Where's _your_ hope, then?" He pointed at the tent city beyond the line of Gerudo warriors. "You are stuck in this desert, leading a miserable life of scrounging and begging, and it won't change if you don't DO something about it!"

"But we are doing something," Garanth said. "In order to overcome Hylian prejudice, we live honest and peaceful lives, conveying the truth better than a thousand words could. One day, this truth will sink in. The Hylians will realize how they have wronged us, and change their ways."

"Even if that ever happens," Malark said slowly, "it won't be within your lifetime. You will never see that day."

"But those who come after me will see it. I am content with that."

"If that is true, then you are merely a corpse," Malark blurted out in disgust. "No, you've never even been alive to begin with. I have nothing more to say to you than I would say to a rotting carcass."

_Why did I even indulge this fool in the first place? I don't have to explain myself to anybody!_

"Yes, I believe we're almost done talking." Garanth nodded. "Some people truly are beyond redemption." He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "Very well. We shall leave this place."

"What?" One of the king's guards who had remained remarkably stoic so far almost seized his arm. "Are you serious?"

_Why, I am surprised, too_, Malark thought. _And there I believed this was the prelude to a Valiant Last Stand._

"Look at these creatures," Garanth told his guards and pointed at the army of Moblins behind Darion. "Their kind knows nothing of mercy. If they defeat us here, they will kill us all, and the future I spoke about will never come to pass."

"But King Garanth... he plans to desecrate the Sanctum of the Sand Goddess!"

"The Sand Goddess will get over it!" Garanth yelled in what seemed like a rare display of anger. Then, with a softer voice: "Trust me, I know what I am doing." The guards nodded reluctantly and protested no further.

Malark sensed duplicity in the Garanth's words – most likely he was just planning to evacuate the women and children, then return later and attack under the cover of the dark or some similar nonsense. But he cared little about this – he just wanted them out of the way, in whatever manner that would be fastest. Unthok and his Moblins would guard the Desert Colossus for as long as their master stayed there, and give the Gerudo a cordial welcome should they decide to do something stupid.

The Gerudo King turned around and addressed his warriors again. "We are leaving the oasis at once! All of you, gather your travelling gear and supplies, but leave everything else behind! Gather the women and children and make sure that everybody is accounted for!"

Among the Gerudo warriors, some voices were raised in protest, but they were outnumbered by sighs of relief. Perhaps they feared the Moblins, or were concerned for the lives of their families, but most of them clearly agreed with the decision their king had made. The battle line quickly collapsed, and the men raced toward their pathetic tent city to prepare their escape.

"Oh, and by the way..." Malark waited until Garanth had turned around. "You are not permitted to leave the desert for as long as I am here. No sense in having you go tell on me with the Hylians, right?" Of course the Hylian army was in no position to stop him, thanks to Darion's efforts, but Malark did not want to take any chances. "Stay away from the entrance to the desert, or you may be in for a bit of a nasty surprise."

"I hear you," Garanth said. There was defiance in his voice, and Malark suspected he would march his people straight east toward the gate and the fortress beyond.

_Let them try. Belemor will see to it that none of them leaves the desert alive. Oh, he'll whine and moan every second of it, but he will obey._

"You have fifteen minutes," Malark told the Gerudo King. _And that's generous, considering how much time I wasted talking to you._ "Any longer than that, and I would save time by having Unthok massacre you, so I strongly suggest you hurry." Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked back to his waiting army, followed by the two Moblin-Stalfos and the ever attendant Triforce.

"You took very long," Unthok greeted him. "They hate waiting." The Moblin King pointed at his waiting troops. "Can we start now?"

"No fighting today," Malark said. "The Gerudo have submitted to our superior force and are leaving this place."

"What? No fighting? Not even a little?" Unthok sounded like a young child who had just been forbidden to visit the playground.

"I'm sure your heart is breaking," Malark mocked him. "But for what it's worth, I've got a hunch that they'll return in force – perhaps they'll gather reinforcements from deeper in the desert after hiding their families somewhere. Be sure to post guards and patrols at all time, especially in the dark." He grinned. "Don't lose heart, Unthok. You may get an opportunity for carnage yet."

"That would be nice," the consoled Moblin King said. "Yes, very nice."

"We will wait here for a while and watch the rats leave their nest. I'll tell you when we move in. Now give them the bad news."

Unthok nodded and shouted at his minions in his incomprehensible language, and the Moblins responded with a barrage of grunted protests. Unimpressed by their complaints, Unthok shouted them all down, and his voice reached a truly impressive volume.

_Perhaps I should learn Moblin one of these days_, Malark thought, allowing his mind to go idle for a short while. _I'm sure there are some nasty insults in that language._

Behind Malark, some of the Moblins began engaging each other in fistfights – not to the death, Unthok assured him, but not gently, either. "They have to," he explained. "Or they get bored."

"Tell them I'm not taking care of their wounds. If they fight on their own time, they can heal on their own time."

"Ha!" Unthok laughed. "They don't need your healing for some bruises." The Moblin King bent toward Malark and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "And you know what?" he whispered. "I think you scare them."

Malark pretended to sniff. "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he said, and Unthok laughed again, louder this time. "Sometimes you're funny, wizard. Sometimes." With that, he planted his spear in the sand and joined his brawling minions, quickly dominating them from the sounds of it.

Surrounded by his stoic skeletal guards, Malark watched the Gerudo scurry around and gather in a roughly circular formation outside of their tent city. When they were not carrying their children or elderly, the women hauled heavy packs, while the men surrounded them for their protection, glancing nervously in the direction of the Moblins, most of whom were otherwise occupied now. Perhaps it had been less than fifteen minutes had passed when they finally departed, perhaps more; Malark had not exactly counted the seconds. The Gerudo moved south in one large pulk and soon vanished behind one of the desert's innumerable dunes.

"Gentlemen!" Malark clapped his hands together, but his words were lost among the noise made by the brawling Moblins.

"Listen up, you brutes!" he shouted, using the voice of his old body and amplifying it. "We're moving in. Unthok, where the hell are you?"

"Coming!" The Moblin King appeared from among his minions, pulled his spear out of the sand and gave Malark a mock salute.

"We're moving in," Malark repeated. "Have your Moblins set up camp around the oasis. But tell them not to use it as toilet – it's our only source of fresh water."

"Of course not. We are tidy. We dig holes in the sand to-"

"Yes, do that. Just don't tell me about it. And don't forget about the patrols!"

"You go in there?" Unthok asked and pointed at the Desert Colossus.

"I will," Malark said. "My guards are coming with me. Your Moblins stay out, is that clear?" The last thing he needed was a horde of brutish monsters ploughing through the Spirit Temple in search of plunder while he was looking for the Sheikah archive. "You alone may enter, but only if you have something important to report."

"And if the sand people come?" Unthok asked.

"Deal with them at your discretion."

"Yes! Fighting!"

"But don't be lured away by hit-and-run attacks!"

"I know that." Unthok sounded insulted. "I'm not stupid."

"I don't think I could put up with you if you were. Now leave me in peace. I have work to do."

Unthok was dismissed, rallied his Moblins and marched them into the Gerudo tent city, while Malark walked toward the Desert Colossus, surrounded by his personal guard of Stalfos.

_Now, to find and unlock the ancient Sheikah archives_, he thought as he entered the Spirit Temple through a rather unassuming entrance and drew in the stale, mouldy air inside. Passing through the first door he beheld several skulls, a deathly spike trap and a seemingly bottomless pit.

_I think I'm going to like this place, _Malark thought and smiled as he made his way past these inconsequential obstacles into the depths of the Spirit Temple. The legacy of his ancestors awaited him.


	37. The Shield of the King

**Chapter 37: The Shield of the King**

Among the overwhelming abundance of things in the Arbiter's enormous home, such as large, dusty tomes, obscure pieces of engineering or glowing magical artifacts, there were also mundane utilities, like a huge pile of firewood in a basement room, consisting of rectangular pieces of wood stacked up to the room's ceiling. There was a small hand axe lying on the floor nearby which presumably had been used to do the cutting, although Koume could not imagine their old host using it himself. Then again, his recent frailty had been due to his injury at the hand of the Stalfos and his devastating experience in Hyrule; he had been a lot more spry before that, and would hopefully become so again. Which did not explain where the wood was coming from, given that they were in the desert, but with so many things involving the Arbiter, the most probable answer was 'magic'.

At any rate, the pieces of firewood provided excellent practice objects for Koume and Kotake, who had moved on from manipulating mere water after a day spent with the reservoir and another day resting, since they had predictably completely exhausted themselves in the process.

For some reason, manipulating solid matter was harder to do than water, but after a few hours, their initial failures had turned into successes, with Kotake first being able to coat the wood with a thick layer of ice, and Kotake finding out how to melt it with her flames soon after. Always keen on outdoing the other, the sisters tried to increase the speed at which they cast their spells, and were now going through the firewood at an alarming rate – not that it mattered to them. Even so, they had asked the Arbiter for permission before beginning during one of his short waking moments, just in case the seemingly ordinary firewood was actually a collection of priceless, though plain-looking artifacts, or the souls of demons were sealed within – it was unlikely, but with a man who kept a dragon as a pet, you could never be sure enough.

"If we keep this up, we're going to spend another day unable to lift a finger," Koume said, her breath already slightly faster than usually, while she threw a piece of wood into the air and set it on fire in mid-air.

"Fine with me," Kotake replied and froze the burning piece of wood before it touched the ground again. "If the Arbiter is anything to go by, sleeping a lot is normal for wizards. I mean, how often has he been up since our little trip to Hyrule?"

"Three times in two days, and never longer than an hour," Koume replied, allowing concern to colour her voice. "On top of sleeping two days in a row before that. I'm worried about him."

"Worried that he'll die before teaching us everything he knows, eh?" Kotake teased her, freezing a piece of wood of her own in mid-air. Incensed by her remark, Koume failed to melt it before it hit the floor and it shattered into tiny pieces.

"I don't think like that," she protested. "I actually like him. Perhaps you're thinking about yourself instead?"

"He's decent enough for a Hylian, I suppose. As long as he's useful, we can keep him around."

"Yeah, right," Koume said and rolled her eyes at her sister. _If anything, he is keeping us around._

"Ah, you're still down here? Good evening to you."

Kotake cringed when she heard the Arbiter's voice coming from the door, visibly concerned about how much the old wizard had overheard. But there was no sign of dismay in the Arbiter's face, so Koume decided that he had not caught her sister's rude remark.

_We're lucky he didn't. Seriously, her snarky mouth is going to cost us one of these days._

"Uh... hello," Kotake said cautiously. "Good to see you up."

"How are you feeling?" Koume asked.

"Quite fine, thank you," the old man said and made a short leap into the air as if to prove his words. "I think I only slept as long as I did because I was tired from sleeping so much." He scowled at Koume. "Don't look at me like I'm about to collapse. My recent frailty was the product of special circumstances and coincidences that hopefully won't repeat themselves anytime soon. I could probably beat the two of you in a hundred-yard-dash," he added, and signalled with a smirk that he was not being wholly serious. Nonetheless, Koume was relieved to see him not only physically healthy, but also in an upbeat mood.

"I'm about to return to Hyrule and track down the survivors from Keeptown, to inquire about the whereabouts of the Triforce," the Arbiter announced. "I will rest easier if our theory about one of the sages securing it can be confirmed."

"I agree," Koume said. Although she had been otherwise occupied during the last two days, thinking about Darion still made her anxious, since he was only hypothetically dead.

"Do you need us to come with you?" Kotake asked in a tone that betrayed a severe lack of enthusiasm. The Arbiter noticed it, too, and laughed.

"No, you don't have to act as my crutches anymore. I'm telling you I'm fine, and I mean it."

"Uh, good," Kotake said. "To be honest, I don't really like Hylians. I mean, most of them. We don't exactly have many good experiences with them."

"I see," the Arbiter said. "Well, I hope that you'll judge me on my own merits, then."

"Of course," Kotake hastened to say. "You are... uhm..."

_Yes, what?_ The sight of her sister squirming was rare indeed, and Koume found that she enjoyed it.

"...very generous," Kotake finished.

_Boo! She could at least have said 'nice'._

"Indeed I am," the Arbiter said and chuckled. "Look at what you're doing to my firewood supplies! How am I going to warm myself during cold desert nights if you use it all up?"

"You gave us permission!" Kotake protested.

"'Can we use some of your firewood for training?' – those were your exact words. Emphasis on _some_."

"Sorry," Koume apologized. "We got kind of carried away."

"It's all right," the Arbiter sighed. "I can't exactly claim to be robbed of the fruits of my labour here. This entire room was filled with wood when I moved in here."

"The whole room? You must have used a lot of it," Koume said. Then she remembered having seen a fireplace in the library, which probably accounted for most of the firewood.

"I like it warm;" the Arbiter shrugged. "Well, I'll think about replacing it when the time comes. Just don't use it all, that'll be enough."

"It's not like we don't have anything to show for it," Kotake said and demonstrated her abilities by freezing three pieces at once. Unwilling to be outdone, Koume focused hard on matching her, and succeeded in melting all of them at the same time. Pleased with themselves, the sisters looked at the Arbiter, probably looking like children expecting praise, Koume thought in a moment of self-consciousness. Fortunately, their host indulged them.

"Splendid," he said and clapped. "I see you have no intention of slowing down your rapid rate of progress." A smile grazed his lips, as if he had just remembered a good joke. "How about you switch spells now? You do the freezing, Lady Koume."

"Yes, that. Ahem. Actually..." Koume coughed, recalling her repeated failure to so much as cool water, let alone freeze it. She peered at Kotake, but her sister did not use the opportunity to mock her, if only because she, in turn, had consistently failed to heat or ignite things. The Arbiter seemed to have expected their reaction and nodded, visibly pleased with himself.

"Don't be embarrassed. One-sided elemental fixation is a frequent occurrence, and many of even the skilled mages can't for their life master spells of opposite affinity. It shouldn't bother you."

"It's weird, though," Koume said, "because we're twins."

"Pshaw! Don't pretend we're anything alike!" Kotake wrinkled her nose.

"Absolutely not," the Arbiter agreed in a tone that made it difficult to tell whether he was joking or not. "If anything, you're polar opposites. Regardless, you're making progress far faster than the average student... and faster than I did, that's for certain."

"So, uh, I have a question," Koume said.

"What is it?"

"Yes, that is... I don't want you to misunderstand me, but... will this spell work on people, too?"

"See? She's a homicidal maniac," Kotake said with a straight face. "Unlike me, of course. Polar opposites, as you said."

"Shut up," Koume growled. Kotake's joke stung – she had killed two people during the last weeks, and was still not entirely comfortable with that knowledge – which was probably the reason she tried not to remember that fact too much. To her relief, the Arbiter dismissed Kotake's word as a jest and shook his head.

"It won't work on people," he said. "Generally speaking, spontaneous effects like igniting or freezing only work on targets up to a certain size – about as big as a large melon. For anything bigger, you need to create an actual missile – a fireball or a frostbolt, in your case – and hit your target with it."

"I see." Koume was careful not to sound too enthusiastic, but the ability to throw fireballs at an enemy was just too tempting – many of their recent life-and-death situations would have been far less dangerous this way. "So when do we learn how to do that?"

"That'll take a while, I'm sure, even for the two of you. I believe I told you before, but conjuring up something out of thin air is a lot more demanding than just manipulating something. Even the Sheikah battle mages only get to that stage after a year or two – and throwing fireballs around is kind of their bread and butter, if you know what I mean. So don't go expecting too much progress too fast. You're still young, after all."

"Yes, of course," Koume said. "Just asking."

"If there's nothing more you want to ask right now, I should be on my way," the Arbiter said. "I'll see you la-" He paused in mid-sentence, and a scowl appeared on his brow.

"What is it?" Kotake asked.

"I seem to have another visitor," the Arbiter replied. "The ward at the front door just triggered."

"Another monster?" Koume remembered the crazy Moblin and his Stalfos slave – she did not want to see these two ever again.

"That is something the ward cannot tell," the Arbiter said. "I'll have to go and see for myself."

"We're coming with you!"

"That won't be necessary, Lady Koume. As I told you, I'm fine. I won't go collapsing again."

"It's not that!" Koume protested, although it was at least partially false. "We're just... curious. Right, Kotake?"

"Yeah. Absolutely."

"But what will the visitor think about your virtue, if he sees you in the company of an old man?"

"We're not really in tune with the whole 'virtuous' thing," Kotake shrugged.

"As you wish," the Arbiter said with a smirk. "I'll take us there." As soon as Koume realized that he was talking about teleportation, the three of them had already left the basement room and appeared just outside of the Arbiter's home, in front of the door that the Moblin and his slave had broken down when forcing their way into the building.

A single figure, tall and broad-shouldered, was standing beneath the door frame, its back turned to the Arbiter and the twins. It was a man with dark, sun-burnt skin and red hair – a Gerudo like them, no doubt. He wore a leather tunic common to Gerudo warriors, and a long sword, perfectly straight instead of the sisters' curved daggers, in a simple scabbard attached to his belt. However, the one thing that gave away his identity was the hexagonal, red-rimmed shield that he carried on his back, its silvery surface like a perfectly polished mirror.

_The Shield of the King? Here? What for?_

"Ahem." The Arbiter cleared his throat, and the warrior turned around, swift enough to face a possible attacker, but not so fast as to appear panicking. His hand reached to the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it yet. If not for the lack of a moustache and his sharper, slightly more aged features, Koume might have mistaken him for Garanth, had the shield not given him away.

"You, here?" Kotake exclaimed. "How come?"

The Gerudo warrior glanced at Kotake, then at her sister, then dismissed them both and looked at the Arbiter. The two men eyed each other for a few seconds, then bowed almost at the same time.

"Lord Astalor," the Arbiter said. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has," the king's brother replied. "I'm glad to see you well. When I saw the door broken down, I feared for your safety."

"The work of two unexpected and regrettably hostile guests," the Arbiter said and smiled. "But it turned out that I am rather hard to kill."

"Why are you here?" Kotake asked again and waved her hands in front of Astalor's face. "Hello? Are you going to acknowledge our humble presence?"

"Koume and Kotake," Astalor said and nodded. "Courtesy required to greet the Arbiter first." He contorted his face as though he was eating something disgusting, and produced a smile. "Garanth told me that you saved his life. You have my thanks."

"You hear that?" Koume asked her sister. "First the king, now his brother! Soon enough, we'll be respected members of society."

"I'm not sure I want that," Kotake replied.

"Perhaps your noble deed has heralded a change in your lifestyle," Astalor continued. "It would please me and my brother greatly if you returned to the path of honesty and decency."

"Don't get your hopes up," Kotake told him off, and Koume gave him a non-committal smile.

"I see you still carry my gift," the Arbiter interjected, his comment directed at Astalor. "I hope you found it useful over the years."

"Oh, yes," Astalor said and turned around again, presenting his back and the red-and-silver shield on it. "It is as you promised," he said without turning back. "No matter how often the surface is hit, there is never even the slightest scratch."

It had never bothered Koume before, but looking at Astalor's shield now and seeing her own reflection in it, she was filled with a strange sense of foreboding, although she could not for life of her say why. She peered at Kotake, and curiously enough, her sister bore a disquieted expression as well.

_Bah! Stupid! _she told herself and shook her head rapidly. _Only little children are afraid of seeing their reflection in the mirror!_

"It seems like it was only yesterday that I gave you this shield as a gift," the Arbiter said after Astalor had turned around again. "I tasked you to always support your brother, and protect him against all foes. Ah... how did I put it again?"

"You shall be 'The Shield of the King'," Astalor quoted with an embarrassed smile. "People still call me that, even after almost twenty years!"

"Then you kept your oath." The Arbiter satisfaction. "It's good to see that I was right to believe in you – I have always considered myself a good judge of character, if I may say so myself."

_So that is where Astalor got that name from! I used to wonder..._

"I trust that you never got to utilize its special properties, though? Not too many rogue wizards running around in the desert, are there?"

"Funny you should say that." Astalor's expression turned grim, his brow furrowed – not funny at all, Koume thought. "I am here because our people are in dire straits, and we would request your aid." He peered at the twins. "That concerns you, too, of course."

"What happened?" the Arbiter asked. A sudden gust of wind rustled his robe and blew Koume's hair into her eyes. "Let's go inside first," he suggested.

"I do not wish to push you," Astalor replied, "but the matter is urgent."

"I'll take us inside, if you agree."

"Ah, of course. I forgot."

"Teleporting someone other than yourself only works when the person in question agrees to it," the Arbiter explained, and with a swift movement of his hand, all four of them appeared in the library, where the old wizard quickly claimed the only available chair.

"I'm listening."

"A strange wizard arrived at our oasis today, about an hour before noon," Astalor related. "He was accompanied by an army of Moblins, as well as several unholy creatures from beyond the veil of death." The Arbiter raised an eyebrow at the mention of 'unholy creatures', and Koume was immediately reminded of the Stalfos, but no one interrupted.

"They threatened us with force and drove us out of our home. It seems that the wizard seeks some kind of magical knowledge that is supposedly hidden in the Spirit Temple. But he could be lying, of course."

"Why didn't you fight back?" Koume demanded.

"Because Garanth told us not to. He has a plan."

"Nice plan, if it involves running away before the first blade is crossed," Kotake jeered.

"Not all of us can fight," Astalor reminded her, his expression strained. "If we had lost, the monsters would have killed the women and children, too, not just the warriors. Garanth is responsible for the welfare of the whole tribe, and he made the right choice."

"Of course you would say that;" Koume said, but her mockery was an automatic reaction. In truth, she had to admit that Astalor had a point. In turn, the king's brother shrugged and turned his attention back to the Arbiter.

"What could that wizard be looking for?" the old man asked. "When I visited you back then, you told me that none of your people knew anything about magic."

"I don't know," Astalor said. "Garanth spoke to him for a while, but he only told me little before he sent me here."

"Hm. Well, then the person of the wizard becomes important," the Arbiter said. "We are a small, but tightly-knit community, consisting only of a small number of Hylians and Sheikah." He rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Of course I have been out of the loop for twenty years, but a wizard powerful enough to raise the dead and command Moblins doesn't just appear out of nowhere. What was his name, if I may ask?"

"His name..." Astalor hesitated. "I think Garanth mentioned it, but... no, it's..." He shook his head. "I am sorry, I don't remember."

"Weak," Kotake mocked.

"We had to evacuate every single person from the oasis in fifteen minutes," the king's brother defended himself, "and I had to keep out an eye on the Moblins while we did it, just in case. Which is to say, I was distracted."

"You said you saw the wizard," the Arbiter insisted. "Can you at least describe him? Was he a Sheikah or a Hylian?"

"He was a Hylian, I'm sure of it," the king's brother said. "His clothing, his skin, his ears... everything about him looked like a Hylian."

"Hm, very well. Anything else?"

"He was a young man," Astalor said. "Perhaps their age," he added and pointed at the twins standing next to him. "He wore white clothing and had brown hair, I think. Oh, and he carried a sword – I thought that was strange for a wizard." Astalor closed his eyes in reminiscence. "Oh, and a strange _thing_ followed him – it floated above the ground and never strayed far behind him."

"What kind of thing?" Koume blurted out, seized by a sudden chill that the description had invoked. Kotake, too, was visibly worried, biting her lower lips and staring at Astalor with frightful anticipation.

"When I saw it... I thought it looked kind of... familiar..." Astalor said with frustrating slowness, dancing around the dreaded revelation. "Then I remembered. It was the symbol from the Hylian crest... three golden triangles that floated in mid-air."

"Oh, shit," Koume whispered and buried her face in her palms.

"He's alive," Kotake simply said.

"He's describing the Triforce," the Arbiter said rather redundantly. "But that means..."

"It's Darion," Koume said. "He's alive, and he's here. Damn it!" Fury seized her – not directed at Darion, but at herself. "And I thought giving up the Triforce piece wouldn't come back to haunt us! I'm an idiot!"

"I'm glad you did it," Kotake pointed out, "or otherwise I would be dead." Koume almost wanted to scream at her. How could she miss the point like this? Darion was here, and he had the Triforce with him – the power that had destroyed the capital of Hyrule and left nothing but ashes!

"Then my theory was wrong," the Arbiter said as he rose from his chair and fastened the belt on his green robe. "The destroyer of Keeptown is still alive." His voice carried a dangerous edge, and the fingers of his right hand moved, as if he was already casting a spell that would constrict Darion's throat or ignite his flesh.

"The destroyer of Keeptown?" Astalor asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll explain the details at a more opportune time," the Arbiter said. "Suffice it to say that this man is a lunatic murderer of thousands, and that he is our common enemy. Therefore, I shall aid you as best as I am able."

"Thank you, Arbiter." Garanth bowed again, this time more deeply. "The Gerudo are in your debt twice over."

"Hold it!" Kotake shouted. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"On the contrary," the Arbiter replied, and his voice was as ice. "I am _remembering_ something... something that I tried to forget over the past few days."

"Darion has the Triforce!" Koume said what was on her sister's mind. "All he has to do is say 'die' and then you drop dead, and all the magic in the world can't save you!"

"Do you suggest I stand back and do nothing?" the Arbiter asked sharply.

"No, but-"

"I don't have to attack him head-on," the wizard continued. "I teleport to the oasis, approach him from behind and-"

"You don't even know where exactly he is," Kotake pointed out. "Somewhere in the Desert Colossus, most likely, if his story is true. And he has an army of Moblins – you told us how fragile wizards are – you _demonstrated_ it by almost dying! Don't do anything stupid now because you want revenge!"

The Arbiter shot a furious glance at Kotake, but Kotake did not flinch and answered his gaze. They stared at each other for a minute, while Koume wrestled with the idea that Darion was still alive, and Astalor looked at the three as though they had suddenly gone crazy. Then the Arbiter put his hands to his temples, drew in a deep breath and sat down on his chair again.

"You're right, Lady Kotake," he said. "At my age, you're supposed to think before you act."

"You're welcome."

"Will somebody please explain to me what is going on?" Astalor pleaded to no one in particular.

"It doesn't make any sense," Koume said, finally realizing that something about Astalor's story was... off.

"Yes, that's why I'm asking for an explanation."

"Not that! The Triforce!"

"Yes, you're right," the Arbiter nodded. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"Because you had a stereotypical fit of vengefulness," Kotake suggested. "Also, what are you talking about?"

"Don't you see it?" Right now, Koume did not even have the spirit for mocking her sister for her slowness. "Why would Darion threaten the people at the oasis? Why would he need an army? Why would he-"

"I get it, I get it. He could just use the Triforce, right?"

"But he didn't," the Arbiter said. "And it's certainly not because he has a deep-seated respect for the sanctity of life."

"Nor for the Gerudo in particular," Koume added, recalling Darion's hateful remarks about 'desert rats'. "So why wouldn't he use it if it's right next to him?"

"Perhaps there are certain restrictions in place for the Triforce user," the Arbiter speculated. "Perhaps the thing even has a conscience and refused to obey Darion any longer."

"Then why does it still follow him around?" Kotake asked.

"That I do not know."

"Maybe that's why he's in the Spirit Temple," Koume said. "Maybe the Trifoce told him to go there... or he's taking it there for another reason."

"Perhaps it's broken and he's trying to fix it," Kotake suggested, and the Arbiter burst out into laughter.

"The power of the gods... defective? Now there's a thought."

"Don't make fun of me," Kotake griped.

"I'm not making fun of you," the Arbiter assured Kotake, though she appeared unconvinced. "On the contrary, your words made me realize how little we know about the workings of the Triforce, and how pointless our speculations are. Therefore, I suggest we stick to the facts." He cleared his throat. "The prince did not use the Triforce when he could have, and by all rights, should have – from his perspective, I mean. Thus, we should assume that he cannot currently use its power."

"That's a pretty big assumption," Kotake grumbled

"Indeed it is." The Arbiter cleared his throat. "Lord Astalor?"

"What? Oh, don't mind me, I'm just part of the decoration." The king's brother shook his head. "Sorry, but I haven't been able to follow you for a while. I understand that the golden thing is this 'Triforce' you are talking about, but other than that..."

"Please bear with us for a while longer. This... wizard, you say... did he actually do any magic? And if so, did or did it not involve touching or talking to the Triforce – the golden thing?"

"No, nothing," Astalor replied. "Except for the skeletal monsters that were with him – they are surely the product of dark magic." He leaned against one of the shelves, contemplating. "Even with that, I wouldn't even have thought of him as a wizard – he didn't look like one, after all. But Garanth called him that." He shrugged. "Again, I'm sorry, but I didn't listen to their conversation. I don't know any of the details."

"Speaking of Garanth, you said before that he had a plan," the Arbiter said. "Certainly more of a plan than we, who are acting like confused cuccoos, speculating about things we cannot currently know. So let's put the conjecture on hold for now and hear about his plan."

"My brother has no intention of surrendering our home to these monsters without a fight," Astalor said. "The Gerudo are a proud people, and we warriors are proudest of them all. But not all of us are warriors. Those who cannot fight must be brought to a safe place – that is Garanth's first duty as king. He is currently leading everybody due east, to our fortress in Gerudo Valley, at the entrance to the desert. The warriors will take ample water supplies from the river that runs through the valley and prepare to return to the oasis, and fight the battle that they could not fight before. I will leave this place to join them as soon as we are finished here, and lead them to retake our home."

"And that is where I come in, correct?"

"Yes. Even though the wizard may not be a wizard after all, our warriors outnumber the monsters only by a narrow margin, and though we are hardy people, we lack combat experience. I know of your abilities – the way you can summon fire and lightning and make the earth tremble beneath one's feet!" Astalor's awed words and expression suggested that he had seen the Arbiter in action before. "If you added your might to our own, our chances at success would increase drastically. All you would have to do is stand in the back of our army and hurl death at the monsters that unhomed us. And though we lack any coin other than gratitude to pay you, we would ask that you join us in our fight. We know that it is not right to drag you into our battles, but-"

"That's enough," the Arbiter said. "I will only accept to fight at your side if you stop telling me how undeserving you are of my help, because it is already getting annoying." He smirked. "After all, helping each others is what neighbours do, right?"

"Neighbours..." Astalor frowned as if he was deep in thought. "Yes, I suppose that's what we are."

"Then it's settled." The Arbiter rose from his chair again and extended his hand to Astalor. "Together, we shall drive out those who would bring war to our desert."

Astalor seized the wizard's hand and shook it. "Thank you."

"How touching," Kotake mocked.

"Nobody asked for your opinion," Astalor said. "I assume the two of you will be staying here?"

"Of course," Kotake said. "But I guess we can wish you good luck."

"Thank you," Astalor said stiffly.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Koume protested. "Don't go speaking for both of us here!"

"What?" Kotake stared at Koume as if she had just declared her undying love for Darion. "It was you who said we're not trying to save the world anymore! That we should stay out of fights that don't concern us!"

"But this fight does concern us! Darion has taken over the oasis! That's the place where we were born and raised, in case you forgot!"

"It's also the place where people shun us because we don't share their peace-and-honesty-obsession," Kotake snapped back. "Your point?"

"It's quite all right," Astalor interjected, "you two can stay here. Women shouldn't be fighting, anyway."

"Shut up!" Kotake snarled. "Yes, you're not helping," Koume added.

"But it's the truth," Astalor continued, smiling. "Why do you think we have no female warriors? Because women are weaker. It's not an insult or anything, just a basic fact of nature."

"Oh no," Kotake said slowly. "This is _not_ going to work!"

"What isn't going to work?" Astalor asked.

"I'm not going to fall for it! I'm not going to say 'I'm coming with you just to show you how much of a fighter a woman can be!', because that's exactly what you want!"

_Is that what he wants?_ Koume wondered._ He sounds like he means it._

"For the last time, this is not a trick!" Astalor sounded almost desperate. "Women don't belong on the battlefield! They should stay at home, raise children and-"

"That does it, you worthless male!" Kotake barked. "I'm going to go out there and carve up twice as many Moblins as you just to show you how much..." She paused with her mouth open. "Oh, damn it!"

"Now that was a weird exchange," the Arbiter commented.

"Her pride is her weak point," Koume explained.

"Will somebody please save me from myself?" Kotake begged.

"I'm happy that you're coming along," Koume said cheerfully. "You would just get bored sitting here all alone, anyway."

"I swear to you, if I get killed, I'll come back to haunt you! All of you!"

"I don't understand you two," Astalor said. "But I guess I can't stop you if you insist."

Kotake mumbled something incomprehensible, slumped behind the Arbiter and and let herself drop into the empty chair.

"Now that this is settled, there's just the matter of communication," the Arbiter said. "Ah, yes! That'll do nicely. Please excuse me for a second." The old wizard slipped out of the library and could be heard rummaging through a cupboard or a shelf in his bedroom next door. After a muffled cry of "there you are!", his footsteps could be heard in the corridor, and the Arbiter returned, bearing a golden necklace with a small inset sapphire that emitted a bright glow. "Please wear this," he told Astalor.

"I'm not wearing a necklace!" the king's brother protested. "What's it good for anyway?"

"I encased a certain signal spell into this gemstone – like a spellsphere, except based on totally different mechanics. Mechanics _I_ invented, if I may be so boastful."

"What's a spellsphere?" Astalor asked suspiciously.

"He has no clue," Koume sighed. "Just give it to me." The Arbiter nodded, handed the necklace over to her, and she put it around her neck. "What kind of spell is it?"

"A signal spell, as I said. If you touch the gem for a few seconds, it will send a powerful beacon to me no matter where I am. Well, actually, it does have a maximum range, but that won't concern you as long as you stay within the desert."

"And what does this beacon do?" Koume asked.

"It allows me to teleport to your location, even if I have never been there and don't know what it looks like," the Arbiter replied. "That way, I can stay here, make some preparations and practice my spells – my fireballs are a probably a bit rusty," he smiled apologetically. "Use it when your army approaches the oasis, and I will arrive in no time at all." He grinned. "The beacon will even wake me up if I'm fast asleep, so please, have no worries."

"Got it," Koume said and nodded.

"Hey, Arbiter," Kotake called out from her chair. "I have an idea."

"Oh yes? What is it?"

"Why don't we use Ixis? He could just swoop down on the Moblins and-"

"Oh no." The Arbiter shook his head and put his hands against his sides. "Categorically, absolutely, no. My Ixis is an innocent, near helpless animal that should not be dragged into our conflicts!"

_Near helpless? Are we talking about the same dragon?_

"Don't get all worked up," Kotake said, leaning back in the chair with her eyes closed. "It was just an idea. I didn't know you were so protective of him."

"Owning a pet confers a great responsibility to the owner," the Arbiter lectured her. "And I am not a man who would shirk from his responsibilities."

"What kind of pet is he talking about?" Astalor whispered in Koume's ear.

"Oh, just a dragon," she whispered back.

"Ah, I see. Well, we wouldn't want him to – wait, what?"

"Don't think about it," Koume recommended.

"Uh... certainly."

"All right then," Kotake said and rose from the armchair, drawing her one remaining sabre. "I'm ready to go. We have no time to waste, right?"

"Right," Astalor said. Koume, too, made sure that her remaining sabre was in its sheath and nodded. "Ready." She looked at the Arbiter.

"All right, you know the drill – just imagine the place!"

"Garanth will be surprised when he sees that I arrived before him." A somber expression came over Astalor's face. "I must warn you," he told the twins, "the monsters probably killed many of our people in the fortress. Perhaps even all of them. Prepare yourselves for a horrid sight."

"Just because we're women doesn't mean we'll throw up at the sight of a few dead bodies," Kotake said. Koume was not so sure, but kept her mouth shut.

"Probably more than a few," Astalor said bitterly. "But we will exact payment for their deaths." He nodded at the Arbiter. "Do it."

"Until then," the old man said, and the library vanished, to be replaced by the sight of Gerudo Valley, coloured blood red in the late afternoon sun. The three of them were standing on the roof of one of the fortress's many rectangular buildings, the large gate leading to the desert on their right side, cliff faces on their left, and the path to Hyrule Field up ahead.

"This is an amazing power," Astalor said. "I must admit, I was afraid the first time."

"You get used to it," Koume said. _I wonder when we'll be able to learn this. But it's probably among the most difficult spells of them all..._

"Let's get inside," Kotake suggested. "To see if anybody is alive in there."

"Yes," Astalor said gravely. "Let's go."

The three Gerudo dropped off of the low building to the valley ground. There was no entrance here, so they walked over to the closest door that led into a five-story-building. The first room was empty, although there were several large pools of dried blood on the floor. The sight and the smell put Koume's nerves on edge.

"Are you sure no Moblins staid behind?" she asked Astalor.

"I have no idea," the king's brother replied. "But Moblins aren't exactly small, so we needn't expect a surprise attack."

"Right." Koume remembered the Moblin who had voluntarily fought against Ixis back when they had lost the Triforce piece to the Stalfos. She hoped that most of his kind were not quite so battle-crazy.

_It's too late to turn back now_, she thought. _But I'll see this through to the end. Kotake will never let me hear the end of it if I don't._

The three passed through an empty corridor to a flight of stairs and reached the first story, where the found another empty room. There was a prison cell adjacent to it; also empty, its door wide open. A table had been toppled, but there was no blood, nor any sign of life.

"Hello?" Astalor suddenly shouted. "Is anybody here? Can anyone hear us?"

His cries echoed through the empty room and into the corridor's beyond. No answer.

_This is creepy_, Koume thought. _There should at least be corpses! Or did the Moblins eat – ugh, no, I mustn't think about that._

"Hm. Let's check the second floor," Astalor said and led the way.

"I hear something," Kotake said while they were climbing the next flight of stairs. "Sounds like... feet? Scuffing?" Her eyes lit up. "Somebody's definitely moving!"

"But it's not coming from up here," Astalor said. They entered the third room of the building, and it was just as empty as the other two. No blood or any signs of struggle here, either. There was a door leading outside to one of the fortress's many terraces, and another stair leading up at the far end, but there was nobody there, either.

And yet, they could clearly hear the sounds of scuffing feet.

"It's coming from below," Kotake whispered. "They followed us inside."

"W-who are _they_, exactly?" Koume asked, trying desperately not to show her fear – not because she was embarrassed, but because she knew that fear could be contagious.

"Who are you?" Astalor shouted toward the stairs. "I warn you! Don't try to creep up on us!" When the only answer was a low, drawn-out moan, he drew his sword and shield and nodded at the sisters, and each of them unsheathed their sabre, readying themselves for combat.

When the first of their pursuers came shuffling up the stairs, she was happy to recognize him as a male Gerudo. He was badly injured – his foot was dragging, he had a horrible wound near his stomach, and his skin was deadly pale, but he was still alive and moving toward them, albeit very slowly.

"You shouldn't be moving," Koume said. "Your going to kill yourself like this!" Yet for some reason, she made not a single step toward him. Something about the man seemed wrong. "Stop walking!" she said again, but the man did not listen. His head was lowered, so she could not see his face, could not see whether he had even heard her words.

"What's wrong with him?" Kotake asked. Astalor merely stared at the man, saying nothing. His expression was unreadable.

A deep moaning sound announced the arrival ot two more Gerudo via the stairs, then three more, all of them pale and suffering from similar injuries as the first. One of them even had a deep cut in his neck that made his head bob up and down, revealing flesh and bone.

"This is wrong," Kotake whispered. "This can't be!"

"Nobody could be alive with such a wound," Astalor agreed. Koume could hear him gulp without looking. "But that means..."

The first Gerudo to enter the room had come within three feet of them now, and Koume saw that he was moving toward her in particular. Instinct made her take a step backwards, then another.

_What's wrong with him? What is all this? What-_

The pale man raised his head, and Koume could see his pale face and lifeless eyes. But before she could register what she was seeing, he opened his mouth and a terrible scream rent the air, a scream whose like Koume had never heard before, shrill and high-pitched; a sound that should not have come from the throat of any living being. The scream did not merely frighten her or chill her, it literally paralyzed her, sending her into a state of abject fear where the only movement of her body was her trembling.

The hobbling man advanced toward her, and Koume finally realized that, although there were now about a dozen Gerudo in the room, none of them were alive.

"ReDead!"

Koume's mind shouted at her to run away, but she could not move an inch. Not even her eyes moved, though she saw out of the corner of her eyes that Astalor and Kotake had been similarly paralyzed, just like her, terror written all over their faces.

_Move move move move move!_

She could not move.

The ReDead was upon her, grabbing her neck and shoulders with its cold arms, baring its teeth. Kotake made an inaudible sound, but Koume could not answer. The ReDead's teeth snapped closed, but missed her skin by an inch. Its hands moved along her neck, pressing against her throat, and there was the sound of something falling on the floor. The ReDead's mouth opened again, and this time, its teeth would not miss their mark-

Something moved to Koume's right, and she felt a strong shoulder thrust against hers. She lost her balance and fell to the left, but for some reasons, her muscles obeyed her again as she fell, and she landed on her arms and feet, almost cutting her wrists with her own sabre.

The ReDead's teeth clicked somewhere above her, biting the air.

"Run!" Astalor's voice exploded to Koume's right. "RUN!"

_I can move. I can move. Move. Move!_

Koume struggled to her feet and followed Astalor toward the door leading to the terrace. Kotake, too, moved, falling in line behind her sister. The shuffling of feet continued behind them as the ReDeads gave their slow, slow chase. There were no more screams.

"This... this..." Koume struggled for something to say as she ran, but had no words ready. This was not a situation she had ever been able to imagine.

"Jump off the roof and run," Astalor yelled. Koume nodded. There was no thought about fighting – how did one fight these things when they could paralyze you as soon as they got close?

_And why aren't they screaming now? Not that I want them to, but..._

Then she realized what the dead eyes meant: The ReDead were blind, and could only find their targets when they made noises, or they were close enough to feel their body heat.

_Why couldn't Astalor have staid silent..._

"Damn it!" Astalor shouted before her. "We should have taken the stairs!" He had left the building first and was now standing on the square terrace which was also the roof of the neighbouring building. In front of them was the reddish-brown cliff face of Gerudo Valley, and on all other sides, the walls of directly adjacent buildings loomed, four or five stories high each. The terrace was a death trap.

"What now?" Kotake asked, her breathing heavy. "What now?"

"There!" Koume shouted. There was an opening at the far end of the terrace; a square hole leading downwards, perhaps to safety. She dashed toward the hole and looked down, and her heart almost burst when she realized that it was merely one of the fortress's prison holes, leading twenty feet down, with no exit or corridor leading to freedom.

"Damn it!" she cursed. That, at least, was something she still could do. "Damn it damn it damn it! What do we do?"

"There must be a way!" Kotake cried. "There must be!"

"There they are!" Astalor shouted, his voice hoarse. Pouring out of the building they had just left came the ReDead – five, eight, twelve of them, slowly shuffling toward their prey.

"We wait until they come close, then run around them!" Koume shouted.

"That won't work! There are too many!"

Koume looked to the door and saw the truth in her sister's words. A never-ending stream of ReDeads was flowing onto the terrace, forcing them toward either the hole or one of the walls. There was no gap in their numbers. Forward and forward they moved, threatening to envelop Garanth and the twins.

"So he is a wizard after all," Koume heard Astalor say, and was amazed that he could form a coherent thought. "He did this... to our brothers and sisters..." He sounded as if he was about to cry.

"The necklace!" Kotake suddenly shouted. "Use it! Call the Arbiter! He'll save us!"

_Yes, of course! _Koume thought and brought her free hand to her neck.

The necklace was gone.

"It's gone!" she cried. "It's gone!" She repeated the words, hoping that Kotake or Astalor would contradict them. "It's gone!"

_That was the falling sound_, she realized. _It's lying on the floor inside, useless._

The ReDead were covering two-thirds of the roof-terrace now, and the three Gerudo were close to the wall. Soon they would have to make the choice whether they would rather jump into the hole and die in there, or here on the roof.

_I'd rather die up here where I can see the sun_.

Koume looked up, her eyes searching for the sun in the blue, cloudless sky. What she saw instead was a skeleton leaping over the heads of the ReDead, a large sword raised over its skull, the light of the sun reflected on its golden helmet.

_What? He? Here?_

All Koume could do before the Stalfos landed was to raise her sabre, or she would have been cut in two. But though she parried the attack, the tremendous momentum of the Stalfos' leaping strike was enough to send her reeling backwards and screaming into the prison hole. The world turned upside down as she fell, with the sky appearing beneath her feet, and then she dove into the thick hay filling the the bottom of the hole. She heard the Stalfos' roar above, and a second later, Kotake came tumbling down into the hole, and Koume could barely move away to avoid being impaled by her sabre.

_That's it. We're done for._

Within seconds, the ReDead would come pouring down this hole and devour them, and there was nothing either of them could do. Strangely, Koume's fear did not turn into abject panic as it should have. Perhaps it was the tiny shred of hope keeping panic at bay; the knowledge that Astalor was still up there and fighting.

_Maybe he can beat them_, she hoped against all reason, although she could not even see him, could not see anything but the blue square ceiling of the sky above. _Maybe he can save us._

_Nonsense. Nobody can-_

"Begone!" a someone shouted. It was the Stalfos, his voice still as full of despair and self-loathing as it had always been. "Begone, I say!" The scuffling of feet above them changed, became more and more distant, until it vanished completely.

"What are you doing?" she heard Astalor shout. "Who are you?"

"I am your enemy," the Stalfos said. "Don't talk to him!" Kotake shouted next to her sister. "Kill him!"

"Koume, is that you? What about Kotake? Are you still alive?"

"Don't be distracted!" Kotake kept shouting. "Kill him!"

"Why did you call your minions back, abomination?" Astalor asked. "Do you have a death wish?"

"YES!" the crazy Stalfos shouted, "I do! Kill me!" Koume heard the sound of sword clashing against sword. "Kill me! Somebody has to!"

"He's still completely nuts," Koume said and chuckled. Her chuckle soon turned into a near-hysterical laughing fit.

_I'm laughing. I'm sitll alive. I'm laughing because I'm still alive. Oh gods above and below, this is too much for one woman._

"Kill me!" the Stalfos kept screaming above even when Koume's laughter died down and she gasped for breath. "Kill me!" Every time the sound of sword against sword or sword against shield reached the twins in their hole, he screamed again. "Kill me!"

"He's worse than ever," Koume told Kotake, who was alternating between giving her concerned looks and peering upwards to perhaps catch a glimpse of the fight going on there.

"No, really, he is." She grinned. "He's totally losing it."

"I understand now," Astalor's voice reached them from above. "You, too, are one of the wizard's victims, every bit as tortured and unwilling as my brothers and sisters here. I shall put you out of your misery."

"Don't talk about it!" the Stalfos screamed, and Koume found that she agreed with him. "Do it! Kill me!"

"Your strength matches my own," Astalor gasped. "You are-"

"I cannot fight an ounce below my strength!" the Stalfos screamed. "You must kill me on your own power! You must! You – damn you!"

The Stalfos' curse coincided with the sound of a sword breaking. Astalor grunted in surprise and suddenly appeared in Koume's field of view, at the very edge of the hole's blue ceiling. He was holding his shield with both hands, absorbing the blows dealt out by the Stalfos.

"Damn you, damn you, damn you!" the skeleton shouted, and pounded Astalor's shield with his sword with each curse. "You couldn't defeat me, either! Get out of my sight!"

Sword clashed against shield again, and this time, Astalor toppled backward, finally having lost his balance, down into the little world that was their hole. He landed head-first, but the hay was deep enough to cushion his blow. He looked like one of the large walking birds that lived in the desert and buried their heads in the sand when danger was near, and while Kotake did the reasonable thing by helping him out, Koume had a second fit of laughter.

_I think I'm going crazy. And would that be a bad thing?_

"You failed!" The Stalfos appeared at the edge of the hole above them. "Faaaailed!"

"Help me out here, and I'll give it another try!" Astalor growled.

"You stay in here!" the Stalfos shouted. "My orders are that no Gerudo must leave the valley! And I must obey!"

"Damn you!" Astalor shouted. "We're going to die in here, and you know that!"

"I have no sympathy to spare!" the Stalfos shouted. "You failed me! Everyone failed me!" He threw back his skull and railed at the heavens. "Isn't there anybody out there who can kill me?"

"I'd like to have his problems," Koume said and giggled. Then she passed out.


	38. The Last General

**Chapter 38: The Last General**

The Goddesses were pretty funny, Link reflected. They had told him that Darion was going to the desert, but had neglected to mention that he had an army with him. At least the myriads of footsteps in the soil of Gerudo Valley told him exactly that. At first, he had feared that Darion had assembled the remaining Hylian soldiers from the outlying garrisons and united them under his command, but upon further inspection, the footprints were clearly not Hylian. The prints resembled hooves, but had been made by bipedal creatures, and judging from how deep they were pressed into the soil, these creatures were very heavy.

Link had always listened with keen interest when the older villagers or the occasional traveller had told stories about the many types of monsters living in Hyrule, and, during his youth, assembled a kind of bestiary in his head, and it made him strongly suspect that it had been Moblins that had passed through here – the largest and most dangerous type of monsters, whose kind lived in the northern mountains and regularly descended to raid Hylian villages.

Incidentally, the Moblin penchant for burning down everything in their path only made Link's theory more likely, since the guard tower at the entrance to Gerudo Valley, the only entrance to the desert proper, had been reduced to a half-collapsed, burnt-out ruin, the charred corpses of its former occupants strewn around the building. Fighting against the urge to stay away from the building, Link had approached it and found out that the ashes were cold; the destruction was recent, but more than a few hours ago.

Link considered returning to the North Garrison – surely nobody would begrudge him not facing down an army of monsters. But he decided against it – not out of pride (at least he told himself that), but simply because he was not going to give up so soon. He was going to take a look at this army. Just because he had the Master Sword now did not mean he had to defeat Darion in a fair fight – sneaking up to him and stabbing him in the night was still an option, perhaps even preferable. Link still remembered his duel with the prince way back then, and how badly he had lost to him. What exactly made him think that he could win this time?

_I will win because I have to._

Amazed a the silliness of his thoughts, he sighed.

_Boy, am I making it sound easy. I'm going to be so surprised when I end up with a sword in my gut._

_Fine, then. I solemnly swear to myself that I won't throw my life away, and only attack if I have a reasonably chance of winning._

Leaving the burning remains of the guard tower behind him, Link directed his horse across the narrow bridge over Zora river into Gerudo Valley, which was not so much a valley as a canyon with a single trail in between steep rock faces on both sides. The trail slowly widened as Link rode on, and eventually, a few branching paths diverged from it, but he kept on the main path, as did the footprints of the presumed Moblin army. There was no sign of life, and the only sounds were the hoofbeats of Link's horse and the wind howling through the canyon. Aside from the change of scenery and the slightly drier air, Link's journey continued to be uneventful and even somewhat pleasant; had he not been on a mission to slay an insane would-be god, he would have called it relaxing.

_I even got used to riding_, Link thought. _It's really pretty easy to pick up, once you put it in terms of a choice between staying in the saddle or falling on your ass._

About an hour passed, and the only thing that changed during this hour was that his horse grew increasingly restless as time went by, sniffing the air as though there was a scent that Link could not perceive – and, from what little he knew about horses, that was probably the case. It balked twice for no visible reason, and the second time, Link had to dismount and coax it into moving again, using the most reassuring voice he could muster as well as several carrots. But although the horse moved again, it's speed kept decreasing until it was nothing more than a slow trot, not much faster than walking speed. It became increasingly obvious that _something_ was lying up ahead, and that the horse was not looking forward to meeting this something.

_The monsters must have set up camp somewhere nearby, and the horse is picking up their scent. That means Darion must be nearby, too!_

_Unless the monsters have nothing to do with Darion, of course._

Link considered the thought. Ever since seeing the footprints, he had not questioned the assumption that Darion was involved with this monster army, presumably as their leader, but was this really the case? Darion had the Triforce, after all – what possible reason could he have to walk toward his destination, and enlist a horde of Moblins to accompany him?

_Perhaps he's afraid for his life,_ Link mused. _He came so close to death when the arrows struck him, he wants an escort to keep possible enemies at a distance._

_But why doesn't he simply wish to become invulnerable to weapons? The Triforce can do that, can't it?_

Link had no answer to any of these questions, and no time to consider them, because his horse finally balked for the third and last time, and neither carrot nor stick would get it to move any further. Link decided to take that as confirmation that the enemy was close by, and that the hoofbeats would surely give him away if he chose to ride any further. He dismounted and tied the nervous horse to a withered shrub, promising in a soothing voice that he would come back for it. Taking only his sword and shield, he made sure that his boots were tightly laced up and walked down the canyon, careful to make as little noise as possible.

_If it is a camp of monsters and Darion is there, I'll wait until nightfall to make my move_, he decided, looking at the sun that was already hanging low in the sky, with only an hour or two left before dusk. _And if it's the Gerudo... hm, I guess I'll just walk up to them and say hello._

The trail took a gentle, drawn-out turn in front of Link, rocks obscuring what lay ahead until he followed it. He walked close to the rock face, hoping that his dirty clothes would at least provide some camouflage, and followed the canyon until it opened into a small, closed-off valley. A primitive fortress lay before him; a series of adjacent and presumably interconnected buildings of uniform square shape and with dark, glassless windows. To the far left of the fortress, there was a huge gate, at least twenty feet high and twice as wide, its leafs closed and locked. Beyond it lay the desert that was Darion's destination, and therefore Link's as well. In front of the gate, a mulititude of people had assembled, perhaps a hundred men and women of red and brown hair, wearing mostly white or brown clothing. Link was too far away to see what they were doing, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were Gerudo.

But if the door is locked, then how did the monsters get through? Or did the Gerudo just let them pass without a fight?

Link had planned to simply approach the Gerudo and offer them his greetings – after all, he could scarcely be considered a threatening figure in the face of a hundred people. But there was something about these desert dwellers that made him uneasy and made him approach silently in the shadow of the canyon's rock face. Perhaps it was the fact that his horse had smelled _something_, and Link had worked with animals for too long to simply dismiss what their superior senses told them. Perhaps it was something about these Gerudo: The way they were just standing there, looking at the closed gate in front of them, with not a sound to be heard outside the moaning of the wind.

Except that it was not the wind that was moaning, because it had fallen still for the first time since Link had entered the canyon. It was the Gerudo.

_Something is very wrong here_, he thought as he edged closer to the strange assembly, amazed that none of the Gerudo had noticed his presence yet. His disquiet grew when he realized that many of them were not even standing, but crouching down on the ground, their hands around their knees. But only when he came within ten feet's range and saw the terrible wounds, the dead eyes and the pale skin of the motionless, almost statuesque Gerudo did his disquiet turn into fear as realization struck him.

_ReDead!_

Suppressing the urge to gasp, Link gulped, and the sound of it seemed loud enough to echo throughout the whole valley. That was only his imagination, of course, but it made him realize that he was only a single loud noise away from becoming the target of a hundred walking dead. He recalled the stories he had soaked up so eagerly as a child, speaking of blind, animated corpses who paralyzed their victims with blood-chilling screams before feasting on them.

_I'm lucky I even made it this far without being noticed_¸ Link thought as he backtracked, trying to maintain a sense of composure. _There's no need to panic_, he told himself. _At least not as long as they don't notice me._ Then_ I can panic._

Putting a safe distance between himself and the ReDead (the stories told that they walked with the slowness one would expect from corpses, but he would rather not put the veracity of those stories to the test), Link returned to the valley's entrance and allowed himself to exhale loudly, thanking the Goddesses for his luck. Both his heart and mind raced as he tried to make some sense of what he was seeing.

_Darion and his monsters passed through here – the footprints lead all the way to the fortress, so there's no doubting that. The monsters attacked the fortress and killed the Gerudo who lived there; then Darion used the Triforce to reanimate them. Which leaves the question: Is he inside or has he already moved on past the gate?_

The Goddesses had told Link that Darion was on his way into the desert, so he assumed that the latter was the case. Of course this led to an even more pressing question: How would he get past the ReDead guarding the gate, who would paralyze him and devour him if he got close, if the stories were to be trusted? The canyon's tall, steep rock faces were a natural barrier against the desert that lay beyond, and although he spent some time overlooking them, Link found no possible place to climb them. The only way, then, was through the gate.

_Damn it! It's almost like Darion put them there to stop pursuers... which is what he did, naturally. Does that mean I have no choice but to turn back without accomplishing anything?_

The sounds of a man walking and something being dragged across the soil made Link raised his head, and he almost gasped once again when he saw the skeletal warrior with the gold-plated helmet come out of one of the fortress's buildings, dragging the body of a tall Gerudo male behind him. The man was alive and struggling against his captor, but the Stalfos held him in a secure grip, pinching the man's wrists between his upper arm and forearm, and pulled him behind him toward the gate and the ReDead waiting there.

_It's him! The one from Gadrin Village... and from Keeptown._

_Wait, he's not going to feed this man to them, is he?_

However, to Link's great relief, his gruesome fears did not come to pass. Instead, the Stalfos stopped before he reached the ReDead, threw back his skull and shouted, his magical voice level and controlled – perhaps too controlled, for Link believed that he heard suppressed emotions. Then again, who could tell with a Stalfos?

"Gerudo leader! Are you still there?"

"I am," a male voice could be heard from the other side of the gate, barely audible for Link, who was a good distance away. As far as he could tell, the voice was not familiar to him.

"I brought your proof – one of my hostages! Try to breach this gate and I will kill them!"

_A Stalfos trying to negotiate? This is getting stranger by the second..._

"I do not see any proof," the voice from beyond the gate called out. "Nor do I hear it."

"You!" The Stalfos shook his captive by the wrists. "Tell him!"

"Don't listen to him, brother!" the man yelled over the gate. "Attack! Do whatever you can to destr-aargh!"

Dissatisfied with his hostage's performance, the Stalfos had struck him in the face, and only the fact that he was still holding him with his other hand stopped the Gerudo from collapsing.

"Astalor!" the voice outside called. "Brother! How did you-"

"Enough!" The Stalfos shouted, his voice shrill, his composure suddenly gone. "This fool may not value his life, but you heard his voice! Would you have me cut his throat right now, so you can hear his death rattle?"

"No, don't!" The voice of the invisible Gerudo leader was trembling. "Don't kill him!"

"I say forget about me!" the hostage shouted. "You have to-"

Again the Stalfos struck his captive, this time hard enough to knock him out. The male Gerudo went limp and the Stalfos let go of him, dropping him to the ground with a soft thump. The ReDeads moved their heads when it happened, having listened to the strange proceedings around them, but did not make any move. Link concluded that they were beholden to the Stalfos and would not attack his hostage without permission.  
"You have one hour," the skeletal warrior shouted, "to get away from the gate and out of sight. Otherwise, all of the hostages will die!"

"Wait!" the pleading voice shouted. "Let's negotiate! There must be something you want!"

"There is only one thing I want: Death, and the only way to give it to me is to attack and defeat me. But the lives of these hostages will be the price. My orders allow nothing less." The Stalfos turned on the spot, seized the unconscious hostage by the collar, and dragged him back toward the closest building. "That is all!"

"Wait! Please, wait!" the unknown Gerudo kept shouting from beyond the wall, but the Stalfos did not react and vanished inside with his hostage, and did not leave the building again. The man outside gave up and fell silent, and soon, the occasional moans of the ReDeads were the only sounds that punctuated the silence of Gerudo Valley.

_Let's see_, Link recapitulated. _There's an army of Gerudo outside of this gate, but they won't attack out of fear for the hostages. Or will they?_

_If only I could open the gate, then a battle would be unavoidable!_

Which left only the question how he was supposed to open the gate without making a sound while being surrounded by a hundred ReDead.

_I could try to lure them away with noise, and circle around them... if they're slow enough. But that would also alert the Stalfos, who's probably sitting somewhere inside. Ah, what to do..._

_Of course! I'll free the hostages! Then the Gerudo outside can scale the gate and attack witout fear!_

Freeing the hostages was easier said than done, of course, since the Stalfos inside most likely kept close watch on them, possibly with more ReDead in reserve. Not to mention that he could far more easily be surrounded and trapped inside the fortress than outside, where only a short dash separated him from his horse.

_But I can at least sneak inside and take a look_, he decided. _After all, I was pretty close to the ReDead just now, and they didn't hear me. So all I have to do is stay quiet and keep my eyes open for that Stalfos._

Link nodded to himself to give himself a bit of extra courage and slowly walked toward the closest entrance of the fortress; not the one the Stalfos had entered (he was not quite _that_ courageous), but rather one leading into small a two-story building at the edge of the compound. He kept his eyes on the ground as he walked, wary of anything that could make a sound if he stepped on it, and reached the door without incident.

The building was essentially one large storeroom with a ladder leading up to the second floor, housing a number of water barrels as well as near-empty food crates, disquieting proof of the Gerudos' poverty. Thirsty from his passage through the canyon and intent on preserving his own water supplies, Link cupped his hands and brough them close to one of the water barrels, only to withdraw them quickly when he saw the black, viscous liquid inside, which was anything but water. There was a second barrel containing the same liquid, whose taste and sight were somehow familiar, and he spent a few seconds trying to remember what it was before the name came back to him.

_Petroleum! _

People in Valhart, and all of Hyrule, as far as Link knew, used animal or vegetable oil for lighting lanterns, but the black oil that came out of the earth burned far longer and brighter than any agricultural produce. Unfortunately, the trade embargo against the Gerudo prevented petroleum from reaching the citizens of Hyrule in appreciable quantities, and only a few daring smugglers occasionally managed to bring more than a sample out of the desert. It was when one of these free-spirited merchants had come to Valhart to sell his goods at an outrageous price that Link had first learned of the black oil, watching the smuggler burn some of it in the village square as a product demonstration.

_They must be careful with torches around here_, he idly thought. _If so much as a spark were to fall into one of these barrels..._

_Of course! That's it!_

Link eagerly put his hands around one of the petroleum barrels and tentatively lifted it an inch above the ground, just to see if he could. It was heavy, but not too heavy to carry, and he was used to physical labour. Carrying out the idea that had come to his mind just now was not going to be pretty, but it would probably solve the biggest of his problems, so he was going to do it. After all, he had a mission to fulfill.

Setting aside the search for the hostages for later, Link lifted the first of the two barrels again and slowly carried it outside, his gait slow and careful, his head peeking above the barrel. There was a slight difference in altitude between the fortress and the gate, perhaps two or three feet, turning the path to the gate into a gentle slope. Link made his way to the top of that slope, a distance of twenty feet between him and the closest ReDead, and put the barrel on the ground with excruciating slowness, only letting go when he was sure that it would not fall over as soon as he withdrew his hands. Then he quickly sneaked back into the storeroom, taking a short break to catch his breath, and repeated the process with the second barrel. Once he had put it down, he looked nervously at the silent fortress and its empty windows, wary of the Stalfos inside.

_Well, if he sees me, he'll come out and let me know, so I shouldn't worry about it._

Link returned to the storeroom one last time and found several torches and flints on the second floor, saving him the time to go back to his horse to get a torch of his own. He lit it while still inside the storehouse, then walked over to the barrels and put the torch down at a safe distance, careful not to put out the fire. The lull in the wind still persisted, and the flame continued to burn. Link hesitated for a moment, wondering whether his plan was not too extreme, but he dismissed such concerns out of hand.

_There's no time to waste by standing around_, he told himself. _That Stalfos' deadline is going to run out sometime. I have to act now!_

Once again Link looked at the multitude of ReDead, their bodies deathly pale, standing or crouching down in front of the gate, their dead eyes staring into nothingness as they moaned infrequently.

_If anything, I'll be doing them a favour._

That thought was enough to renew his resolve, and Link knocked over the two barrels of petroleum. He had placed them so close to the slope that it took little effort to overbalance them, and they spilled their viscous contents down the slope toward the ReDead. The black stream moved fast and reached the first of the reanimated Gerudo, flowing around their feet and on toward their brothers and sisters. They did not fail to react when the oil touched their feet, but most of them merely moaned and turned their heads, confused by the sensation they were feeling. Link walked over to the torch, slowly picked it up and returned to the toppled barrels.

_Not yet_, he cautioned himself. _I have to wait until the oil reaches all of them... and hope that these _are _all of them._

Link did not have to wait long before the pool of petroleum extended around the feet of even the farthest ReDead. He knelt down on the ground, covered his face with one arm and tossed the burning torch into the oil slick, keeping its arc as small as possible so it would not go out before it landed.

There was a whooshing sound, and a pillar of fire several feet high erupted where the torch landed, spreading quickly and travelling down the oil slick toward the Re-Dead. A wave of heat assaulted Link, and though his face was protected, it was severe enough to force him away from the fire, half-crawling, half-leaping backwards. A choir of drawn-out moans told Link that his plan had succeeded even before he dared look at the flames; a crescendo of wailing and sighing that quickly ebbed off and soon ceased entirely. The now-familiar smell of burnt flesh attacked his nostrils, reminding him of the annihilation of Hyrule's army at Darion's hands. But Link managed to keep the memories of that horrible day at bay by reminding himself that he was saving these people from a fate worse than death rather than truly killing them.

_I wonder whether the gate will catch fire – hm, no. The spill didn't reach far enough for that. And there's enough room to pass through it if you walk in single file, even with the fire nearby. Now I only have to find the switch..._

"What have you done?"

The outraged voice coming from the fortress served as an abrupt reminder that there was at least one of the undead still 'alive' – the golden-helmeted Stalfos whose actions had already caused Link nothing but trouble during the incident at Gadrin. He came racing out of the building, his broadsword in hand, and stared at the lake of fire where his minions once had been.

"You fools!" he shouted in the direction of the gate. "I don't know how you did it, but... " The sound of the flames cracking and swooshing probably made him difficult to understand, and Link was sure that the Gerudo on the other side could not even hear him.

_He doesn't see the barrels. He thinks it was their work, somehow. And after I went through all that trouble..._

"Now I must kill your friends!" the Stalfos shouted and turned around, approaching the fortress again.

"Hold it!" Link shouted before he knew it. "This is my doing!" The Stalfos froze and looked at him, his sword pointed in Link's direction. "Credit where credit is due, right?" he shouted and laughed, trying to distract himself with hollow bravado from the fact that he had now drawn the skeletal warrior's attention.

"You idiot!" the Stalfos yelled and strode toward Link. "Who are you? You had nothing to do with this! Why do you force me to kill you?"

_Trust me, that's the one thing I'm not trying to do_, Link thought and made a few steps backwards to increase the distance between himself and the ongoing, petroleum-fueled blaze. His hands moved to draw sword and shield, hesitating for a second when he almost drew his old blade, then removed the Master Sword from its sheath.

_This will be the first I use it in real combat_, he thought as he glanced at the blade – was the slight glow a reflection of the fire, or did it come from the sword itself? Link had no time to ponder the question, because the Stalfos Knight was upon him and brought down his large sword on Link's shield, which he just barely moved in position to block the attack.

_Stupid! Don't get distracted by worthless observations!_

The force of the blow traveled through Link's body and spread through it, allowing him to absorb most of it while retaining safe footing, with only his upper body moving backwards slightly.

_This is not going to be easy... but maybe there's another way._

Ordinarily, wasting one's breath during a fight was a foolish move, but the Stalfos seemed conflicted somehow – "why do you force me to kill you?" he had asked. Also, Link recalled his words during the incident in the ruins of the Keep, when he had pleaded with his Moblin master to allow him to die, and been swiftly denied. His reasons for fighting were clearly not his own, and there might be an opening there that he could capitalize on just as decisively as on an opening in his defence.

"I know you," Link said between his teeth while blocking another strike. "You were once a general! A good man!" He still remembered Thallius' words about the general who had fallen in battle along with his troops. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't want to do it!" the Stalfos exclaimed, hesitating a little between attacks. "But I can't help it... I'm being compelled by black magic!"

"Why aren't you fighting it?" Link shouted and counterattacked, trying to push his foe toward the burning oil spill. Even if he could not talk him out of it, he might just distract him for long enough to defeat him – a cheap and kind of low strategy, but perfectly justifiable while fighting for one's life.

"Fighting it? Ha! You don't know what you're talking about, boy!" The Stalfos stood his ground close to the fire and regained the offensive, infuriated by Link's words.

_This isn't working out like I thought it would..._

"If you see a man falling off a mountain, do you berate him for not fighting gravity?" the former general asked and hit Link's shield with a blow strong enough to put a dent in its iron frame. "Answer me!"

"This isn't the same thing!" Link protested. "This is about willpower!"

"You're a young fool who knows nothing!" the Stalfos shouted, his skull face as expressionless as ever, but his voice dripping with contempt. "Willpower? What is this thing? Can you show it to me?" Unconcerned with such mundane things as breathing, he kept up his savage attacks while shouting at Link. "Is there an organ that produces it? A drug that releases it? A magic spell that bestows it?" Taken aback by the hopelessness in his voice, Link hesitated, unsure of what to say in reply.

"Come on, answer me! Surely you can show me the secret of this 'willpower', you who seems so well-versed in it!" There was terrible mockery in the Stalfos' voice, as if he had detached himself from his despair and was now taking great delight in his own suffering, daring Link to give him an answer just so he could mock him more. He even eased off in his attacks, perhaps to give Link time to think about his words.

_Perhaps he's right_, he thought. _What do I know about the magic that binds him?_

_Maybe there's no opening here for me, after all._

"You say nothing!" The Stalfos' voice was triumphant as if he had just gored Link on his sword. "You admit defeat! There is no such thing as willpower!" He attacked again, more furious this time.

"Now you see it, don't you? There are some things in the world that you cannot change, forces that you cannot go against, no matter how hard you try. There is no hope for me, except to pray for death." He sneered derisively. "But a boy like you can't give that to me."

_We'll see about that_, Link thought, raised the Master Sword over his head and attacked. The Stalfos made a step back to better parry Link's strike and almost moved into the fire, then surprised Link by leaping high into the air above his head, landing some fifteen feet behind him, well clear of the fire, then turned around and charged at Link. Realizing that he was now the one closer to the fire, he ran toward his enemy in order to meet him as far away from the flames as possible, to avoid being backed into a very painful death. Sparks flew when their swords clashed, and Link's sword arm vibrated in pain from the unnatural force the Stalfos put into his strikes.

_I can't hold out against his strength for much longer, _he realized. _And since talking didn't work, I have to defeat him. But how?_

A number of ideas raced through Link's mind, ranging from feigning a moment of weakness to lure his enemy in, to going on an all-out attack, exhausting all his reserves in an attempt to overpower him. For each idea he came up with there was an obvious drawback, and so he stayed indecisive for a minute, reduced to passively blocking and parrying the Stalfos' attack while trying to stay far away from the fire.

_This is pointless! Every move has its dangers! I just have to go with something before he wears me out._

In a sudden flash of reckless inspiration, Link hurled his shield toward the Stalfos, having pushed back his sword after a parry, and used his now free right hand to draw his old sword from its scabbard. The shield hit the Stalfos square in the chest, and although it did not push him back, it distracted him for a second; long enough for Link to lunge forward and attack him with a weapon in each hand. The helmet protected his head and neck, so he went for the Stalfos' arms, hoping to cut them off. His foe recovered just in time to move his arm and parry the attack, but Link had anticipated that: He moved the blade in his off-hand down the length of the Stalfos' own sword toward the cross guard, pushing it toward his right side. At the same time, he reached out with his left arm and brought down the Master Sword on the Stalfos' arms, cutting off both bones of the right lower arm, just barely missing the left.

_Got you!_

The Stalfos yelled when his right hand fell to the ground of the valley, not in pain (he probably felt no pain at all), but in anger. He maintained a strong grip on his sword with his left hand, though, and used it to immediately counterattack Link, who dropped his old blade and seized the Master Sword with both hands to parry the incoming strike.

_It worked! I have halved his strength, and I can fight him on even grounds._

The Stalfos' angry scream seamlessly turned into a resounding laugh, as if Link's sudden advantage was somehow a good thing for him.

"Good! Very good! I underestimated you!" He kept up his attacks, but his blows were noticeably less powerful now, and Link had no problems with parrying them all. "Perhaps you're the one I hoped for..." His voice suddenly sounded hopeful. "Perhaps you're the one to kill me!"

"I'm always trying to help," Link said dryly and went on the offensive. Even with one of his arms severed, the Stalfos still held the advantage that he could not tire, and thanks to the hot, dry air from the nearby fire, Link was already covered in sweat and breathing heavily. _No more talking now, damn it!_ he admonished himself. _What's with this stupid need to make witty remarks, anyway?_

"I was wrong about you," the Stalfos suddenly began. "You may be able to kill me."

_What's this now? You said that already! Can't we just fight silently?_

"Perhaps I was wrong about that other thing, too."

_What are you trying to tell me?_

"What I said before, about willpower... it reeks of excuses. I never made excuses in my life. It sickens me how low I've sunk. But the anguish I've suffered... the things I've done... They are enough to reduce even the strongest man to a whining caricature of his former self."

_Look, I'm sympathizing, but-_

"Promise me one thing," the former general said and looked at Link across locked blades, his voice no longer pleading, but demanding. "You will not tell anybody about the excuses I made. Tell them instead that General Belemor was not as strong as everybody thought he was... neither his body nor his will."

The Stalfos looked at Link expectantly, dragging his sword just a bit too slowly to parry his latest attack in time. The Master Sword hit him in the chest, breaking several ribs in the process, and knocked him on his back, sending his gold-plated helmet rolling away. He raised his remaining arm again and tried to strike at Link, but it was too late: In a quick movement, Link dropped to one knee, raised the Master Sword over his head and severed the Stalfos' left arm at the elbow.

"I promise," he said simply.

"Good," the former general said, no longer trying to get up. "Now kill me!"

"If that is your wish," Link said and raised his sword again. "Farewell." He brought down the Master Sword on the Stalfos' neck, no longer protected by the helmet's neckguard, and decapitated him in one strike. The skull rolled down the slope toward the burning oil spill, vanished into the flames, and was gone.

_Of all the terrible ways for him to end, this was probably the best one_, Link thought, and for the first time in his life appreciated the notion of mercy killing. Just to make sure that the headless skeleton would never rise again, as powerful Stalfos were reputed to do sometimes, Link took the time to gather most of the larger bones and threw them into the fire where they quickly burned to ashes.

"... going on over there?"

"... answer me, you..."

_Oh, that's right_, Link thought when he heard the voices from beyond the large gate, barely audible over the sizzling of the flames. _I should probably open the door now._

Link picked up his shield and old sword, then circled around the burning oil spill. When he approached the far side of the gate, he found that there was a small door built into the gate's right wing, locked with two large, but movable metal bars.

_That makes things easier_, he thought, and looked up at the gigantic bar that secured the gate proper. _There's no way anyone can move these doors without some kind of mechanism, which I'd have to find first._

"I'm opening the door now!" he called over the gate and heaved the lower of the two bars.

"Who are you?" a dull male voice sounded from beyond the door.

"I'm not an enemy, so don't poke me with sharp objects!" Link shouted and lifted the second bar, unlocking the door. Then he took several steps back and shouted: "It's open! But beware the fire!"

The door flew open, and a Gerudo warrior stepped into the frame, a curved sabre in each hand and a suspicious look on his dark-skinned face. Link raised a hand and waved, and the man raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not an enemy," Link repeated. "Your people can come through now. There may be some ReDead left in the fortress, though."

The Gerudo looked at Link as though he had been speaking Moblin, then disappeared back through the door, presumably to report to his leader. Link merely shrugged and waited.

_They're probably confused as all hell. I know I would be._

After few minutes' worth waiting, a dozen Gerudo came through the gate, all of them men, and all of them warriors except one, who was surrounded by the others; the leader, most likely. He seemed about forty years old, had red, unkempt hair and a short moustache. He glanced at Link, but then his gaze moved on to the fire that was still burning hotly, and the charred figures lying therein. There was no way he could recognize them, but it did not take a big leap in logic to realize that they could only have been his tribespeople. To his credit, he did not linger too long on them and approached to Link, sending all but two of his bodyguards into the fortress to scout for remaining enemies.

"You did this?" he asked Link without introducing himself and pointed at the fire. Link recognized his voice as that of the man who had talked to Belemor when the former general had given his ultimatum.

"Yes," he nodded. "But they had been turned into ReDead – walking corpses raised by dark magic. Basically, they were already dead." He recalled Belemor's anguish and despair and wondered whether the reanimated Gerudo had felt similar emotions. "I know it sounds harsh, but this was probably for the best."

"Walking corpses..." The Gerudo leader shook his head, his eyes closed, allowing himself a moment of grief. "Yes, that sounds like him. I already saw some of his handiwork, so..." He opened his eyes and looked at Link. "Excuse me for being so discourteous. I am Garanth, King of the Gerudo. Would you give me your name?"

"I'm Link."

"Allow me to express my gratitude, Link. You saved my tribespeople from a fate worse than death." The king bowed before Link, and his two guards followed suit.

_It's a good thing he sees it like that_, Link thought even as he blushed. _Otherwise, I'd be in big trouble. And it's nice being appreciated for a change._

"I also took care of the Stalfos who was in command of the ReDead," he said, trying not to sound overly casual, "so there shouldn't be much resistance inside, if any."

"That's good to know," Garanth said. Then: "Do you know whether my brother is alive?"

"Your brother? You mean the hostage from before? The Stalfos went through the effort of dragging him back inside, so I think he's alive, although he may have a headache."

"I hope he is," Garanth said. "Astalor... what a courageous fool, telling me to let him die."

"Uhm... if you don't mind my asking..." Link hesitated. "What would you have done when the time was up? Would you have retreated, or tried to destroy the gate?"

Garanth looked to the ground and shook his head. "That I do not know. I was thinking about it.... about sacrificing my brother for the good of my people." He smiled at Link. "You saved me from having to make that decision. You have my personal gratitude for that, too."

_Excellent. Since he's in my debt, he's bound to help me track down Darion._

Link nodded awkwardly, slightly ashamed of his calculating thoughts, and Garanth addressed his guards.

"Go back through the gate and have everyone ready to move into the fortress. I'll let you know once we're sure it's safe."

"Your majesty, we..." The guard's voice trailed off, his eyes darting to the swords Link carried.

"Please do it. I insist."

"All right."

With a last suspicious glance at Link, the two Gerudo warriors vanished through the open door back to the other side of the gate.

_Sending one of them would have been enough. This is a deliberate show of trust. I think I like this king._

"Now, Link, I'd like to – ah, praise the Sand Goddess! He's alive!"

Link turned around and followed Garanth's gaze. Three Gerudo were coming out of the closest exit of the fortress; one man and two women. The man was the same who had been dragged outside by Belemor earlier – the brother of the king, it seemed. The two women looked completely identical, except that one of them wore a golden necklace with a glowing blue gemstone. Link recognized them immediately.

_Whoa! They're alive, too! I thought Darion had them skewered or something._

"It's good to see you, Astalor," Garanth greeted his brother. "And you two, as well," he told the two women, "although I have no idea how any of you made it here before us."

"The Arbiter was nice enough to send us here," one of the women said. "Although I would have respectfully declined if I had known the place was swarming with the undead. Brrr." She shivered and looked at Link, whom she seemed to have noticed only now. "Hey, it's you!"

"That's my line," Link replied and frowned as he tried to remember the twins' names. The sisters seemed to misunderstand his scowl, because they shared an anxious look and coughed apologetically.

"Uh... look, it's not like what you're thinking," one of them said.

"What do you think I'm thinking?" Link asked, confused.

"We didn't sell the Triforce to Darion, or anything. He sent monsters to take it back from us, and we almost died defending it!"

"We're very sorry about what happened to your town," her sister said.

"How did you know?" Link asked. "I thought you escaped from Keeptown back then!"

"Ah, it's kind of, a long story," the woman said. "Yo, Garanth!" she addressed her king, evading Link's questioning look. "We talked the Arbiter into helping you! And we're here to fight alongside you, just to show a certain chauvinistic dumbass what's what."

"There was no holding them back," the king's brother shrugged.

"Don't worry, these two can handle themselves – if nothing else," the king replied.

"Wait a second. What's that supposed to mean?"

"At any rate," Garanth ignored her, "I'm happy you were successful, Astalor. With the Arbiter on our side, we will rout that foul wizard and his monstrous army."

"Yes, go ahead and ignore us."

"I'm not ignoring you, Koume. On the contrary, I'm-"

"I'm Kotake," the woman corrected the king. "Koume is the crazy one here."

"I'm not crazy!" her sister protested.

"You totally were, back then."

"That's... that's because of the ReDead, and the scream, and he almost bit me, and I thought I was going to die, and then the Stalfos pushed me into the hole, and started whining again, and... and..." She raised her palms into the air. "Come on, anybody would panic a little in that situation!"

"You were laughing like a crazy witch," Kotake insisted.

"But I'm all right now," Koume said.

"Let it be, Kotake," Astalor said. "All of us were deathly afraid, and we're lucky to be alive at all."

"You have to thank Link here for that," Garanth said. "He destroyed all the ReDead and their master single-handedly."

The three former hostages stared at Link with their mouths open.

"He did?"

"Are you kidding?"

"That's an impressive feat, to say the least."

"Heh, yes, well... you could say I'm pretty resourceful when I need to be." Link blushed again. _Oh, damn it, he's only saying the truth! There's no need to be ashamed of it!_

"Lovely necklace," he said to Koume, trying to change the topic. "Did you get that so people can tell you two apart?"

"Oh, that..." She clutched the necklace with both hands, as if she was afraid of losing it. "No, I just borrowed it."

"And then you went and lost it after five minutes," Kotake mocked.

"Well, excuse me, but a ReDead was trying to eat me!" Koume jabbed her sister in the stomach. "But I picked it back up right after we were freed, and that's what counts!"

They were interrupted when the Gerudo warriors returned from the fortress, reporting to their king that there were no ReDeads left inside. Garanth acknowledged their report and had them inform the people waiting outside. Before long, a steady stream of Gerudo, both warriors and civilians, came walking through the small door in single file, being quickly led past the burned corpses of their tribespeople into the empty fortress.

"I'll explain things to them later," Garanth said. "We were prepared to find all the fortresss inhabitants dead, so it's not that much of a shock."

"We will avenge them soon enough," Astalor said coldly. An uncomfortable silence set in, only to be quickly interrupted by Koume addressing Link.

"So, Link, what are you doing here anyway? You weren't looking for us, were you?"

"No," Link shook his head. "In fact, I thought you two were dead."

"Oh, my..."

"I'm here to kill Darion."

"Ah, figures," Kotake nodded. "I always thought you looked like the crazy type. No offence."

"And you came alone?" Koume asked with barely hidden awe.

"Yes," Link said. "But there's a good reason for that."

"Well, now you can join us," Koume said cheerfully. "Because we're going to rip that genocidal maniac to shreds, and his monsters with him!"

"Your boundless optimism amazes me," Astalor said.

"That's understandable, seeing how you embarrassed yourself against that Stalfos," Kotake said with pursed lips. "I mean, not only did you lose, he even broke your sword!" She snorted. "And you were trying to tell us to stay at home. Seriously..."

"If I recall correctly," the king's brother replied, "I was the only one who at least managed to trade blows with him, while _certain other people_ got themselves knocked into a hole before the fight even started."

"Hey, at least I have an excuse," Koume protested. "I was totally out of it at that time!"

"Fine, let's agree that we're all different degrees of pathetic," Kotake said. "Darion is going to have a field day with us."

"I hate to interrupt your loving banter," Garanth said, "but you have one thing wrong: The man who is our common enemy is not Prince Darion... at least not anymore."

"What?" Link stared at Garanth, unsure whether he had heard him right. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's difficult to explain," the Gerudo King said. "In fact, I can't explain it at all. But I know for certain that the body of Prince Darion has been taken over by the spirit of a wizard named Malark."

Now it was Link's turn to open his mouth and stare.

"Malark? Are you serious?" _But Arnu said he was dead! Whoa... wait a minute..._

"Malark? You don't mean the creepy wizard who tried to frame you?" Koume asked Garanth.

"The very same."

"That... that actually makes a whole lot of sense," Link said earnestly. "I mean... wow. I'd never have imagined something like this was possible, but it explains a lot."

_So Darion was only really Darion when I met him for the first time? And every other time after that, it was this old wizard? Damn it... I bet Arnu had no idea, either!_

"Perhaps that's why he couldn't use the Triforce," Kotake suggested.

"What's a Triforce?" Garanth asked.

"Oh boy," Kotake sighed.

"Indeed," Link said. "I think we have to sit down and thoroughly exchange information."

"Agreed," Garanth said. "There are many questions I need to ask all of you, and probably some that I can answer." He looked at the burning oil spill, then at the fortress. "But I have to talk to our people first. They have no idea what happened here, and they're entitled to an explanation."

"I'll join you, brother," Astalor said. "But first, I need to go to the armory and get a new sword."

"Yeah, we could use some replacement sabres ourselves," Kotake agreed. "Unless the mighty Astalor thinks that the only weapon women need are fruit knives."

"Oh cut it out already," Astalor sighed. "I'm taking back everything I ever said about women, all right?"

"Only if you really mean it... but I don't think you do."

"All right," Garanth interrupted them. "Let's meet up at this spot in, say, fifteen minutes. Link, I trust that is all right with you?"

"Uh, yes. I have to get my horse, anyway." _And think about a lot of things on the way._

"We should call the Arbiter, too," Koume said and pointed at her necklace. "He wouldn't like not being informed, I think."

"But he said he was going to practice his spells," Kotake said. "It's in our best interest to let him do that. We can bring him up to speed when we meet up near the oasis."

"Who's this Arbiter you're talking about?" Link asked. "Later," Koume replied with a grin.

"Well, that's decided, then." Garanth nodded at his fellow Gerudo, then at Link. "I'll see you then." With that, the king vanished in the closest fortress entrance, while Astalor and the twin sisters walked toward one of the smaller structures close to the storehouse. Link shook his head, trying to get a grasp on the revelation he had just received, and trod toward the entrance for the valley where his horse was waiting for him.

_This changes everything_, he thought. _Or does it?_

_No, not really. Darion or Malark, he still has the Triforce, and he used it to destroy Keeptown. He has to be stopped. No, _he recalled the warnings of Janos and Arnu,_ he has to be killed._

Of course the Gerudo might yet prove troublesome, as useful as their assistance could be, since they might not be ready to simply let Link leave with the Triforce. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it.


	39. Wayward Student

**Chapter 39: Wayward Student**

Malark was feeling right at home in the vast subterranean vault below the Spirit Temple, its dusty halls illuminated by the cold radiance of his magical light and the golden shine of the Triforce. Rows upon rows of high shelves filled with tomes and parchments surrounded him, testament to the productivity of the ancient Sheikah, who had accumulated vast magical knowledge in their short heyday. Their skills as librarians, on the other hand, left much to be desired, since there was no reasonable system of categorization other than the name of the author, which was no big help in and on itself. But Malark was used to working under less-than-optimal conditions, and with the help of the numerous cross-references to other works, he had quickly established the names of the most prolific magic researchers, and was now combing their works for the spell or ritual that he was looking for – provided it even existed, of course.

Malark had no idea exactly how much time had had spent in archives, other than that at least a day and a night must have passed, since it had been dark outside during one of his quick teleports to the oasis to refill his water jug, and light again during the most recent trip. It did not matter to him, for he was determined to stay inside until he had found what he was looking for or knew for certain that it was not here. In a way, time was meaningless in the archives, at least as long as his Moblin army remained patient, and Unthok would inform him if that was about to change.

Even though there was not a soul around to disturb him, and the mote that was Darion's consciousness remained in utter silence at all times, Malark had found it surprisingly difficult not to get sidetracked, spending far too much time reading obscure historical recounts and collections of near-useless, overly specialized spells that would nonetheless present a formidable addition to his arsenal – if only he had the time to learn them!

_And I shall have the time_, he thought after forcing himself to close another book that had caught his interest, but was not helpful in his search right now. _With the power of the Triforce, immortality will be a mean feat... but for that, I have to harness its power first. Discipline!_

With a sigh, Malark put the book away and picked up a book titled merely _'Of the Mind'_. It might very well be one of those nonsensical philosophical treatises that occasionally found their way into even the best libraries even though they had no business being there, but he could not know that until he took a look inside. The index showed some promise, pointing him to a section that discussed something called 'Mind Purge', and Malark began reading eagerly.

_It is no secret to a practitioner of magical science that the mind can be polluted or contaminated. Not with 'impure thoughts' or similarly silly concepts, but rather the very real, though intangible mental influence of others. As numerous cases have shown us, there is even the possibility of a complete mental takeover, and though there are methods to combat this, they have proven dangerous and sometimes ineffective._

_I therefore present, after long and arduous research, a ritual which I call 'Mind Purge', capable of removing even the most deep-seated contamination of one's mind. Critics will of course find fault with the reagent requirements, call them 'extravagant' or 'unrealistic' and dismiss the ritual wholesale, but that will be their loss._

His hopes raised by the promise of these lines, Malark's eyes raced down the pages, skipping over a long rant about how small-mindedness and stinginess were hurting the Sheikah as a whole, and finally found the passage that described how the ritual was actually supposed to be performed. Judging from the description, it was a deceptively simple, though time-intensive procedure. He scanned the list of required reagents, but there was nothing on it that he would not be able to procure with a little effort – except for the last item on the list.

_One (1) tooth of a mature dragon._

"What the hell?" Malark cursed out loud, and his voice echoed through the archives, the first sound in the room other than the rustling of paper ever since he had broken the seal guarding the entrance.

_Where am I supposed to find a dragon's tooth, much less a dragon to pull it from? For all I know, they're pretty much extinct. This is ridiculous!_

"That's what I deserve for getting my hopes up," he muttered to himself and rose from his uncomfortable chair, then began pacing back and forth through the room. _But this ritual sounds just like what I need! What better way to describe the pathetic remainder of Darion's soul than 'mental contamination'?_

_There has to be a way! Even a dead dragon should do!_

Frustrated and annoyed, Malark recalled the popular belief that a dragon's bone, if ground to powder and ingested via drink, would extend the imbiber's life expectancy by several decades, not to mention increase his happiness, wealth and virility. Of course that was utter nonsense, but it had not stopped wealthy Hylians from buying and destroying most known dragon remains over the last centuries, robbing reputable wizards of one of the most powerful reagents known to them. Of course there were substitutes, but they often did not work right, or at all, and the creator of the 'Mind Purge' technique explicitly warned that using anything other than a real dragon's tooth would be supremely dangerous for one's health and sanity.

_I just have to find a real dragon, then. The search will probably take ages... but I have time, don't I? I only need to memorize the instructions and reagents listed here._

Malark walked back to the desk and sat down again, studying the requirements of the ritual and committing them to memory. Once he was done, he put the book away and took a deep breath, but suddenly found the stale air of the archives no longer to his liking.

_I need some fresh air_, he decided, and teleported out of the room to very top of the monolith that housed the Spirit Temple. He had come here once before, taking his first and so far only break. By some random accident of nature, the top side of the large was almost perfectly flat, or perhaps the artisans who had chiselled the colossal statue into the rock had taken the time to smooth out the top, too. Other than teleporting, the only way up here was through a trap door in the ceiling of one of the Spirit Temple's topmost rooms, and since he had forbidden the Moblins from entering the temple, Malark was alone, just like he preferred it. He walked close to the edge of the monolith and let his eyes wander across the vast desert around him.

_Perhaps the remains of dead dragons are somewhere below the sand, hidden from mortal sight_, he speculated. _But finding a live one will probably be easier than digging through all that sand. If only the Triforce obeyed me, then I could just summon a dragon into existence out of nothingness!_

_Wait, I'm doing this in order to _make _the Triforce obey me._

Malark allowed himself a short laugh at his own circular train of thought and wondered where he should start looking for a dragon There were always the legends and rumours told by the common folk, of course, but he had always had better things to do than listen to them.

His best chance was probably asking people who traveled all across Hyrule – merchants, mercenaries and the like – and ask them whether they had heard any stories about dragons. It would be bothersome, and the fact that he was looking like the hated prince was not going to help things, but it seemed like a reasonable approach, and there were always magical disguises.

A commotion below him drew Malark's attention, and he saw two Moblins wrestling each other just in front of the entrance to the Spirit Temple, making all kinds of grunting noises and kicking up a whole lot of sand. One of them, he realized from the sheer size, was Unthok.

_Why, now that I think about it... Unthok _does _get around, doesn't he? And he's the king of an entire race of monsters, so perhaps he knows something about dragons._

Malark was not particularly convinced by his own line of reasoning, but he decided that it could not hurt to ask, so he teleported down to the ground, appearing in front of the two fighting Moblins who did not even notice him at first. Unwilling to wait for their tussle to be over, Malark hurled a bolt of lightning at them – low power, of course, but enough to be seriously uncomfortable and draw his attention.

"Ouch," Unthok said after recognizing his master, rubbing his back where the lightning had hit him. "What was that for?"

"I have a question," Malark said.

"Then why shock me?" Unthok complained. "Just ask!"

"Who knows, perhaps I enjoyed it." Malark smiled and dismissed Unthok's complaint; he knew the Moblin King could take much more than a little lightning. "Tell me, do you know where I could find a dragon?"

"Huh?" Unthok stared at Malark as if he had just commended him for his exquisite fragrance. Then he distorted his snout into a grin. "Funny," he said and laughed.

"Kindly let me in on the joke, will you?"

"I met a dragon not long ago," Unthok said after wiping the saliva off his snout. "In the desert. Oh, what fun it was!"

"You mean this desert?" Malark asked, dumbfounded. _Am I really this lucky? Not that I wouldn't be deserving of it after all those setbacks, but... the universe doesn't work that way._

"Yes." Unthok nodded eagerly. "When I took back the Triforce for the little prince."

"That's when you met the dragon? Where?"

"It was inside some building. A pretty big building." Unthok scratched his large chin and looked at the sun, then at the horizon. "Should be that direction," he said and pointed his meaty fingers to the south.

"A dragon was living inside a building?" Malark scowled and eyed Unthok intently. "Are you sure you're not trying to make fun of me?"

In reaction to his question and his stare, the Moblin King laughed again and shivered in mock-fear. "Never!" he said. "You're scary if you get mad. So scary."

"I'm doing my best," Malark grumbled, concealing the elation he was feeling. A true dragon, right around the corner! With a mouth full of teeth, no doubt! There was no time to lose.

"Do you remember what the place where the dragon was looked like?" he asked.

"Of course," Unthok said and pointed at his large head. "I have a big brain."

"No doubt you do. Now imagine the place in your mind!" The Moblin King gave him a questioning look, but Malark dismissed him with an angry wave of his hand. "Just do it!"

"Uh... yes," Unthok said with audible confusion and closed his eyes. Then, after a few seconds: "Done."

"Very good," Malark said and began casting the teleportation spell that would feed off the mental image in Unthok's mind and transport him there instantly. "I won't be gone for long. You're in charge here." Before Unthok could ask any questions, Malark completed the spell, and the oasis with its colossal statue vanished.

He found himself in a large, penumbral room, with the Triforce as the only – inadequate – source of lighting. But before Malark could summon a light of his own, he felt the triggering of a reactive magic spell and hesitated. The spell lit up the room, which was revealed to be circular and covered in sand. He did not flinch when he saw the vast creature lying curled up at the centre of the room, its massive body covered with green scales, the eyes in its horned skull closed as it slept.

_Magnificent!_ he thought. _A living specimen, just as Unthok promised!_

Malark slowly walked toward the sleeping beast, careful not to make any loud noises on the sand, wondering about the spell that was providing light to the room.

_It was an automated spell triggered by my presence, so it has to be refreshed in regular intervals. Which means a wizard comes here regularly. He must be the one holding the dragon captive in here._

_How thoughtful of him_, Malark thought with a smile that no one could see. _I'll take care not to damage his property too much – just one little tooth, and I'll be gone before the beast even has time to roar in pain._

Malark arrived at the dragon's head resting on the sand, marvelling at the four curved horns – as far as he knew, most dragons only had two. But he was not here to do research, so he focused on the sleeping dragon's maw. Fortunately for his purposes, it was half-open, revealing two large tusks as well as two rows of less formidable, but still long and pointy teeth. He decided to spare the unwieldy tusks and settled for one of the frontal teeth on the lower jaw, bringing his hands within an inch of the tooth.

_Careful now,_ he thought. _I don't want it to bite my hands off. I have to be very fast._

Malark's hands clasped the tooth, and with one powerful, jerky movement, he broke it off at the base and pulled it out of the dragon's mouth, almost falling when his own momentum sent him staggering backwards. There was no time to marvel at his price, however, for the dragon awoke instantly, lifted its head and unleashed a thunderous roar that echoed through the windowless room.

"So sorry," Malark said with a smile, "but I have no time to play." Indeed, killing this rare dragon without good reason would be the pinnacle of wastefulness, so Malark merely performed the teleportation spell that would bring him back to the Desert Colossus.

Unfortunately, the spell failed to work.

_What? What's this? Impossible!_

The dragon had spotted its puny assailant, tracking him down with red eyes glowing with malice and pain, and was bringing one of its large clawed hands down toward Malark. Stupefied by the failure of his spell, only the reflexes of Darion's body saved the wizard, and he threw himself sideways into the sand, clutching his bloody price, and heard the impact of the claw hitting the sand where he had just stood.

_How can this be? _His mind raced as he tried to hold back terror at the sight of the angry beast bearing down on him. _I need an answer now!_

_But I can't just stand here. I have to move!_

Malark ran, away from the dragon and its searching claws, and heard another strike miss him as his strong legs carried him across the sand – but where to? There was no visible door or window in this room, nor any feature that he could use to hide.

_Calm down_, he told himself, taking a wide turn to keep him away from the wall where he would easily be trapped. _It's just a dragon. I need to focus!_

A whooshing noise sounded behind Malark, and with a massive thud, the dragon landed close behind him after leaping through the air. He dared not look back, but continued to run, trying not to move in a predictable manner. He heard the dragon give pursuit, the ground shaking with every step the beast made, but managed to banish the sounds of the monster from his mind as he concentrated on his surroundings.

_There's a protective ward shielding this room_, he realized when he finally focused properly again after the initial shock of seeing his spell fail. _It permits teleporting inside, but not back out, not even for the person who created it. _

Had he walked right into a trap, with the dragon as its bait?

_Nonsense! Nobody could have known that I would come here!_

Malark felt the giant claw of the dragon strike the ground right behind him, dangerously close to his body, and decided to postpone solving the riddle of this place and the wizard who had created the ward.

_First things first. As much as it pains me to do it, this dragon has to die. I can't very well dismantle the ward while it's trying to flatten me._

Malark continued to run until he heard the dragon's claw once again impact on the sand behind him, then quickly came to a stop and turned around. The dragon was standing fully upright now, which made him appear twice as tall, but he would not be intimidated by such trivial things as physical size. With a swift gesture, Malark sent a bolt of lighting at the dragon's head, missing his eye, but hitting the jaw. The monster flinched, but was not deterred from attacking again, and Malark had to leap aside to dodge his claw.

_So you're not just show, eh? Good. I haven't had a challenge in a long time._

Instead of withdrawing its claw and striking again, the dragon now used it to swipe at Malark in a wide arc, throwing up sand as he dragged its claw across the floor. It took a well-timed jump to dodge the attack, but Malark knew that he was not going to get anywhere if he had to jump around like a monkey all the time. He summoned a wall of ice between himself and the dragon, thick enough to last against at least one strike of the dragon's fang, and took a moment to weigh his options.

Malark considered several high-powered spells, such as his personal favourite, Mortys, but none of them were likely to work on a beast of this size. With a disappointed sigh, he abandoned the idea of felling the dragon elegantly with one attack and resigned himself to battering it down using the bog-standard spells he had been taught as a young man.

With a furious roar, the dragon shattered the icy carapace, showering Malark in myriads of tiny ice shards, but before it could deal the finishing blow against the motionless wizard, he summoned a fireball and aimed it at the beast's large hand as it bore down toward him. The spell's effectiveness surpassed Malark's expectations by far: With a loud howl, the dragon withdrew its hand as it was struck, and even made a small leap backwards – all that just because a moderately powerful fireball had singed its palm. Could it be that Malark had stumbled upon a weakness?

Just to test his hypothesis, he created a wall of flame to protect himself, and noticed that the attacks stopped immediately, and the dragon eyed the blazing barrier that protected the wizard with both fear and frustration.

_A dragon that's afraid of fire? Such an oddity!_

The dragon's fear did not cloud its intelligence, though, because it gathered its resolve, brought its head close to Malark, opened its maw and exhaled, trying to blow out the fire that shielded him. Seeing the danger he was in, Malark focused on strengthening and renewing the flames, keeping up the fiery barrier. With a thin smile, he decided to exploit the dragon's weakness for all it was worth and concentrated on expanding the wall of fire, moving it closer to the dragon while at the same time increasing its height. With a fearful whine, the great beast stopped blowing and withdrew its head, slowly pacing backwards as the flames came closer.

_It's like hunting some dumb animal_, Malark thought gleefully. _Except in here, there's no way to run._

Drawing on the enormous energy reserves of his new body, Malark extended his flames until they touched both sides of the wall, cutting the room in two half-circles, then moved it closer and closer toward the retreating dragon. As the area containing the dragon grew smaller and the length of his flame wall decreased, Malark increased its height and thickness, to make sure that the dragon could neither leap over it nor burst through it.

_This is almost too easy._

Malark had the flames move closer and closer to the wall, leaving the dragon less and less room to maneuvre. The beast growled in anger and fear, keeping its distance from the moving flames, until its tail touched the wall. With a desperate howl, it dashed forward, trying to break through the flames, but jerked backwards when it touched the fire. It lowered its head and retreated as close to the wall as possible, whining like a mangy dog caught in a corner.

Regretting the circumstances that forced him to destroy such a rare specimen, Malark decided to try a paralysis spell, although he was certain that it would not work on the massive beast. The yellow beam hit the monster in the chest, but had no effect at all. He repeated it, this time drawing power from the fire barrier, causing it to flicker momentarily, but there was still no effect.

_Hmpf. Well, I tried my best to spare it. But I can't dismantle that accursed ward while keeping the flame wall up._

_No matter. Once I get the Triforce to obey me, I can create a dozen dragons out of thin air if the fancy strikes me!_

In his unending mercy, Malark decided to make the dragon's ending as quick as possible, and focused all of his power into the moving fire barrier, turning it into a curtain of flame that enveloped the monster, setting its scales and skin ablaze. The dragon shrieked in agony as the fire spread over its entire body, searing its flesh, and wildly thrashed its limbs a pitiful attempt to put out the flames that were devouring it. Although Malark regretted its death, he was also rather pleased with himself, since maintaining and expanding the fire for so long had been no mean feat even by his standards.

_It only worked because the dragon had no means to attack from a distance_, he cautioned himself against the familiar onset of hubris. _What worked against a monster would have failed against a single bowman._ With a shudder, he recalled the way Darion had been feathered with arrows from his own archers, and praised himself lucky that he had not felt his body's pain back then.

_Cursed frailty of the flesh! The first thing I'll do after accessing the Triforce will be making myself invulnerable! Darion was a fool for never even thinking of that!_

The dragon roared again, this time louder and with fury as well as pain. Malark looked up, having been lost in thought for just a few seconds, and cringed in terror when he saw the large beast charging toward him, trailing flames and smokes behind it, dying, but not dead yet, and determined to drag its killer down to hell with it. Malark dared not try to sidestep or jump away – the dragon was driven by the frenzy of death, and moved faster than he had ever before.

_I let my guard down! Careless!_

Malark's only option was to see the dragon dead before it reached him, so he raised another wall of fire between himself and the beast, drawing on all the strength of his body to make it burn as hot as magma. When the dragon burst through it, its flesh melted rapidly, beginning with its head, so it did not even have the opportunity for a final roar. The body tumbled through the lethal barrier and collapsed in front of Malark, its nerves and muscles burned along with its flesh. Nothing remained of the dragon but its charred skeleton, lying right in the middle of the circular room as if it had been dropped on a plate from above.

_Such marvellous Idiocy! _Malark berated himself even as he sank to his knees, exhausted from the final magical exertion that had saved his life. _I've become too arrogant for my own good! An enemy isn't dead until it has stopped moving, and even then you can be mistaken._

_I shall not indulge in such foolishness again_, Malark thought, and vowed to reduce every single enemy to cinders from now on before even thinking about dropping his guard.

_To die now, when I have almost realized my goal... why, I'd be as stupid as Darion was!_

With an angry hiss, Malark realized that he had dropped the dragon's tooth somewhere along his way without noticing. Fearful that a charred tooth might not work as well as an unblemished one, Malark rose and retraced his steps until he found the tooth half-buried in the sand and picked it up with a breath of relief.

_Now to destroy that ward..._

Malark closed his eyes and concentrated on the magical barrier around the room that prevented him from teleporting away, probing its strength. Of course he could have used explosive spells to blast his way through the walls until he reached the outside, but he did not like to shy away from a challenge.

_Hm, strange... the magic is pretty strong, especially considering that defensive spells are never all that powerful._

Malark felt a sudden change in the ward, a magical beacon that lit up in response to his probing spells.

_Well, well, what's this? I seem to have set off an alarm. How clumsy of me._

_But this means that I'll soon face the one who created this ward. Oh, I'm so curious!_

Malark opened his eyes, put the tooth down on the sand close to his feet and awaited the arrival of the wizard who had imprisoned this dragon, preparing himself for more violence – after all, the wizard was bound to be displeased by the death of its specimen.

_Let's hope he can be reasoned with_, Malark thought, since he was in no hurry to fight another battle to the death. _I'll just promise him something for compensation. It's not like I have to make good on that promise..._

An instant later, only a few seconds after triggering the alarm, he felt the powerful effects of a long-distance teleport spell, and a brown-robed figure appeared in the centre of the room, right next to the dragon's charred remains. Without any of the post-teleport-disorientation that was so common to mediocre wizards, he instantly seized up his surroundings – and cried out in anger and grief when he saw the dragon's remains.

"Ixis! No! What... how... who did this to you?"

Had circumstances been slightly different, Malark might have snorted or shook his head at this display of sentimentality – no matter how rare, dragons were still only beasts. But he did not do that, because he was too taken aback by surprise. He had recognized the wizard's voice immediately, even though he had not heard it in twenty years.

_This can't be! This is too much! Of all the times and all the places, I would meet him here and now, on the eve of my greatest triumph! I'm starting to believe in destiny again!_

Malark fought back laughter as the wizard noticed his presence and strode toward him, his leathery face marked with lines of grief.

"You have some gall, stranger," the familiar voice said with the dangerous undertones of anger barely reined in. "Murdering my pet while I am not at home! What kind of-"

The wizard froze at a distance of ten feet from Malark, staring at the Triforce floating next to the intruder. "It's you!" he said, and his eyes lit up with fury. "Darion!"

Without another word, he hurled a magic projectile at Malark; a small, purple ball of energy that traveled toward his head at high speed. But Malark had prepared himself for violence, and with a twitch of his thumbs, he raised a protective barrier designed to block magical spells. Upon hitting the feint blue barrier, the purple sphere dissolved into nothingness, its power absorbed by the powerful shield spell.

"So it's true... you're not using the Triforce, fallen prince. And yet, you are an adept of the arcane." His voice became threatening. "I will teach you the true power of magic!"

Malark tried to fight it, but he simply _had_ to burst into maniacal laughter – the wizard's remark had simply been priceless.

"You mock me at your own peril," the wizard growled. "If you cannot use the Triforce to strike me down, then your skill won't avail you much. I will punish you for everything you've done."

Malark ignored his useless babbling and wiped tears out of his eyes. "You presume to teach me, Mudora?"

The wizard stiffened and made an involuntary step back. "How do you know who I am?"

"You haven't had anything left to teach me since I graduated from you decades ago!" Malark gloated, ignoring Mudora's question.

"What nonsense is this? You claim to have been my student? You were two years old when I left Hyrule!"

"It pains me to see a man of your calibre deceived by mere appearances," Malark mocked. "Don't look at me!" he exclaimed and superimposed his old voice over Darion's for the sake of dramatic effect. "_Listen_ to me!"

There was recognition in Mudora's eyes, followed by denial, followed by acceptance – a delightful cascade of emotions, triggered by nothing more than three words spoken in the voice of a body long buried.

"Malark! I was told you were dead!"

"Rumours of my demise have been vastly exaggerated," Malark said with a smile, although he wondered how Mudora had learned about his death.

"But... this isn't a magical disguise! I would sense it if it were." Mudora scowled, and his tanned face turned pale with terror.

"Posession!"

Malark clapped at the utterance of that word. "You're not so ignorant after all," he said.

Mudora made several steps forward, as if he was going to physically assault Malark – a highly amusing thought, especially since he was still carrying Darion's sword. "How dare you? This is the greatest crime among your people!"

"Allowing others to judge one's actions is a sure sign of a weak mind," Malark merely replied.

Mudora shook his head, his eyes staring at the ground. "So I wronged the poor prince," he whispered, which only made Malark laugh again.

"This is rich!" he said. "'The poor prince'? Believe me, Darion was every bit as depraved as I am – and he wasn't even being honest about it! He caused more deaths in an hour than I did in my entire life. And yet he kept insisting he was the one being wronged!" Malark spoke as if he was sharing an excellent joke, but Mudora evidently did not find it funny.

"Even if I were to believe you for a second and accept that Darion was the one who destroyed Keeptown," he said and pointed at the charred skeleton of his dead dragon, "it was you who did this! Why?"

"It's your own fault, really," Malark pointed out. "If not for your stupid ward, I would have teleported away, and your precious pet would still be alive to lick your face."

"Oh no," Mudora said between clenched teeth, his face no longer pale, but red with rage. "Oh no, you will not goad me into killing you before I know exactly why you are here!" He blinked and cocked his head in reminiscence. "You were the one who drove out the Gerudo! Why? Why did you bring death and misery to this already god-forsaken desert?"

Although Malark had no reason to justify his actions, he decided to test just how much Mudora knew. "I am here to reclaim the legacy of the Sheikah," he said.

"What?" Mudora asked with visible confusion. "Then why have you taken over a Gerudo sanctum?"

_It is as I thought. You are just as ignorant as everybody else._

"This is one of the things not even you know, my old teacher," Malark said. "It seems you never snooped through the secret records in the royal archives."

"I happen to have a sense of discretion," Mudora said in a dignified tone.

"Another word for wilful ignorance," Malark spat. "Bah, no matter. I already told the story to a spineless fool not long ago, and I don't have any desire to do it again – not that you'd listen, anyway. You always suffered from close-mindedness."

"Another word for moral decency," Mudora quipped.

"It is very reassuring to see that you haven't changed a bit. Still as self-righteous as ever."

"But you have changed, Malark. You were my greatest student and became a valued colleague, even though we had our differences of opinion. What happened to you?"

"Nothing 'happened' to me," Malark said, repulsed by the hints of sympathy in Mudora's voice, "at least nothing that hadn't happened already when I first met you." He laced his voice with all the contempt he could muster. "Your marvelous 'test of character' was a complete failure."

"So it would seem," Mudora said hoarsely. "I should never have left Hyrule."

"Oh, yes," Malark said with a casual flip of his fingers, "I always wanted to ask you about that. Why did you just pack up and leave one day, leaving only a short note behind?" He grinned mockingly. "We were all sooo concerned about you!"

"Can you not guess?"

"You didn't like the food at the Keep?" Malark suggested. "Oh, I agree with you. Horrible stuff. But that's no reason to-"

"Power!"

"Huh? What?"

"It's about power, you fool!"

"You left because you wanted more power?" Malark was genuinely surprised. "You wanted to study in seclusion, so nobody could copy your secrets?"

"The very opposite!" Mudora almost shouted. "I had become too powerful!"

"My, aren't we modest," Malark said and pursed his lips.

"Not just me! All of us – us wizards! Think about it!" Mudora was almost pleading with him. "We can strike men dead with a flicker of our fingers, we can change our appearances with but a word, and we can live many times as long as any mortal men!"

"And you think this is a bad thing?" Malark asked, just to make sure.

"Such power cannot exist for long without being used for war," Mudora lectured. "You were a battle mage, a soldier – you should know that better than anybody!"

"Of course power is used. That's the point!" _Has he gone senile?_

"But every time it is used, a greater power inevitably arises to counter it, and an even greater power to counter that power! How much longer do you think the Hylians and Sheikah will be able to protect the secrets of magic? The other races covet its power, and sooner or later, they will seize it, or steal it!"

_You have no idea who stole what from whom! _Malark wanted to yell, but kept his mouth shut for some reason.

"They will train battle mages of their own, forcing our mages to try and surpass them, and soon enough, we'll be faced with a spiral of escalation that spins faster and faster, until it can no longer be controlled... until the greatest power of all is called upon." Mudora extended an arm and pointed at the Triforce hovering above the sand.

"So you, too, knew about it," Malark said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Knew about it?" Mudora cackled. "I was the one who found it!"

"Somebody must have," Malark shrugged, trying to hide his surprise. "So let me get this straight: You left out of fear that your teachings would contribute to the spread of magical warfare, and that eventually, the Triforce would be used as a weapon, to counter all other magic?"

"I have seen what happened to Keeptown," Mudora said gravely. "Tell me: Does that not prove me right?"

"That's not what happened at all. Your little theory of magical escalation had nothing to do with it. If anything, your exile only hastened events along, because it allowed me to take your place!"

"Is that so?" Mudora asked hoarsely.

"What did you hope to accomplish? Did you think you were setting an example for others?"

"Of course!"

"How foolish! Heed this lesson well, my former teacher: Once you gain power, you must never forfeit it! If you do so, somebody else will come along and use that power for his own ends – somebody who does not share your scruples."

"Somebody like you."

Malark smiled. "Power unused is power surrendered. You surrendered your power because you were afraid of some hypothetical calamity. But no possible mistake of yours could have been so great as simply _running away_."

Mudora fell silent for a while, a look of deep concern on his dried, ancient face. Then he sighed deeply and surprised Malark by bowing before him.

"I accept this lesson from you, my former student. I shall end my exile and offer my power to the world once more, to make amends for my long absence." He nodded gravely. "But first of all, I must take responsibility for you, Malark. It is as you said– my test of character failed. By misjudging you, I made a horrible mistake. It is my duty to erase that mistake now."

"A noble resolution," Malark said, surprised that somebody had listened to him for once. "At least with that, I can destroy you as an enemy of equal standing – not as a pathetic worm who has forgotten the meaning of power." He began conjuring a large fireball between his palms. "But I doubt that you're ready to face me," he added in a belittling tone.

"I just returned from the deep desert where I practiced my combat spells," Mudora said, and with a finger movement, a blue shield similar to Malark's own appeared around him. "Believe me, Malark, I am more than ready for you."

"Then let's begin," Malark said and let the fireball fly. It hit Mudora's shield straight on and burst into a shower of harmless sparks, but it was merely meant to be a symbolic opening move, reminding Mudora that Malark had already been a proficient battle mage before coming to him for advanced studies.

Both wizards slowly walked backwards while facing each other – the greater the distance between them, the more time they had to react to their opponent's moves, and the smaller the risk of spell reflection occurring. Malark in particular was painfully aware of this danger and decided to put a spin on his magical projectiles so they moved in a slight arc toward their target.

_First of all, that shield has to go down_, Malark thought and assaulted his former teacher with a barrage of fireballs. Mudora simply stood still and let his shield absorb the damage while countering with magic projectiles of his own. Both wizards knew that the magic shielding them was a tricky thing – once a spell shield collapsed, it could not be raised again until the caster had rested for several hours. Because of this, training duels ended the instant one of the duelists' shields was overwhelmed, since any magic attack beyond that could result in injury or worse. In a fight to the death, on the other hand, battering down the shields was a mere preliminary.

After a few minutes, Malark felt his own shield weakening – he, too, was doing nothing to dodge his enemy's spells, since doing so would only have served to throw off his aim. With a wry smile, he registered Mudora's shield giving out at the same time as his own.

_Time to fight in earnest_, he thought and began to run sideways, shooting lighting from his fingertips as he moved. Mudora, too, began to dash across the sand with surprising agility, dodging Malark's attacks while unleashing his own magic. What had begun as a dignified duel between two masters was turning into a chaotic pit fight with both opponent rolling and leaping across the sand, dodging each others attacks with the knowledge that a single hit could end the fight.

_The body is just too frail for this sort of thing_, Malark mused as he took cover behind the dead dragon's skull and saw a spear made out of ice shoot past him. _One fireball and you're done for. But that goes for both of us!_

Malark began raising walls of fire out of the sand as he had done before, trying to corner his foe, but Mudora extinguished them with torrents of water gushing out of conjured rainclouds. His former teacher counterattacked with small, black spheres summoned out of nowhere; every time they hit the floor near Malark, they caused the ground to tremble and almost threw him off balance. To protect himself, Malark called upon a fierce wind, creating a miniature sandstorm that drastically reduced visibility, and fired several blind shots into Mudora's general direction.

_All I have to do is outlast him_, he knew._ My body is more than a hundred years younger than his._

A green orb suddenly appeared out of the sand cloud before him, homing in on his position with frightful accuracy. Malark managed to jump away at the last second and saw a cloud of poisonous gas emerge from the shattered orb, right where he had been a second ago. More poison orbs followed, each of them almost finding its target, forcing him to keep moving.

_How can he aim so precisely? He can't see me – oh for god's sake!_

Malark threw his head to his right and saw the familiar light of the Triforce there – a shining beacon that was giving away his position even in the sandstorm.

"Hush," he shouted. "Stay away from me!" But of course the Triforce did not obey him and continued to follow Malark, or rather the mote of Darion that still dwelt within his body.

_What have I ever done to deserve this?_

Now that the reduced visibility was working to his disadvantage, Malark recalled his wind, but Mudora simply conjured gusts of his own, and so sandstorm continued to hide him. Malark was reduced to taking blind shots into the sandclouds while running and cursing his bad luck, calling for Mudora to show himself, knowing full well that he would do no such thing.

_I need a new idea_, he thought. _I could still outlast him, but the longer the fight continues, the greater the risk of getting hit. I have to pinpoint his position somehow._

With a high-pitched clinking sound, one of Mudora's projectiles suddenly hit the Triforce and shattered into harmless fragments, and a sudden inspiration came over Malark.

_Let's see if I can turn this disadvantage into an advantage_, he thought and began to move laterally, his right side protected by the indestructible Triforce, into the direction from where the attack had come, while shaking the area around him with circular shockwaves. Mudora's attacks suddenly ceased, and Malark heard a muttered curse right in front of him. Eager to turn the tides of the battle, he unleashed a fan of energy beams in the direction of the sound – none of them powerful enough to kill or seriously wound, but unpleasant enough to effect a grunt in its target.

No such grunt came, however.

_He's got the devil's own luck_, Malark thought and repeated his spell, but again, there was no sound of anybody being hurt. _Or is he just gritting his teeth and bearing it silently? That's what I'd do._

With a loud sizzling sound, a bolt of lighting hit the ground right next to Malark and shattered all of his preconceptions of what Mudora could and could not do – because it had come from _above_.

_Levitation!_

Every self-respecting wizard tried to master that extremely difficult technique at some point in their lifetime, but most failed and moved on to more convenient (and easier) spells like teleportation – like Malark, who now had to admit that Mudora had bested him in that regard.

"I am impressed!" he called out and amplified his voice over the sound of the howling wind. "So you actually improved your skills while you were hiding from the world!" If he had hoped for a reaction that would allow him to track his flying enemy, he was disappointed, other than a shower of ice shards each as large as his head. Malark raised a screen of fire above his head, almost singing his hair, and the ice melted as it passed through it, hitting his head as harmless water.

_So much for my advantage_, he thought grimly: Since the Triforce followed at his side, but never above his head, it was useless as a shield as long as Mudora remained airborne – and with the entirety of the high-ceilinged room as potential manoeuvring space for his enemy, Malark's blind shots were guaranteed to continue to miss.

_Either I have to start flying or that sandstorm has to go!_

Since there was no way he could master levitation on the spot, Malark had to deal with the powerful wind that obscured his sight by blowing sand all over the place.

_But what is wind other than the difference in temperature between air currents?_

With this sudden flash of inspiration, Malark focused on raising the temperature in the vast room; not an easy feat while dodging Mudora's constant magical barrage from above, but doable. Very soon, it was warm enough to make the difference in temperature caused by Mudora's spell negligible, and the wind subsided almost completely, finally allowing Malark to see his enemy hovering in the air above him, fifteen feet high. Mudora was too high to see properly, but Malark liked to think that there was an expression of utter surprise on his face.

_He'll compensate for my spell immediately and restore the wind in no time_, Malark knew. _I have only this chance!_

Keeping his head clear, Malark took aim and hurled a fireball upwards at his flying enemy. Mudora tried to float out of the way, but he could not levitate anywhere near as fast as he could run, and was hit almost square in the chest. His robe burst into flame, and although he immediately summoned a torrent of water to put out the fire, he could not maintain enough focus to levitate and plummeted to the ground, hitting the sand below.

_This is my victory!_

"You put up an excellent fight," Malark shouted and ran toward his fallen enemy, eager to finish him. "I would have expected no less from you." He reached Mudora, whose fall had been softened by the sand, and who was already struggling back to his feet – an admirable feat for a man at least one hundred and twenty years old. His chest and waist had been horribly burned, and the cloth of his robe had been molten into his black-red flesh. Only a powerful healing spell could save him now – and Malark would end it before that happened.

"Rest assured that I will never fail to use my power," he said as he conjured another fireball. "Now begone from this world!" He hurled the fireball at Mudora from a short distance – and gasped in shock when the blue flicker of a spell shield absorbed it.

"What? How can you..."

"I'll show you power," Mudora rasped and put his right hand against his chest, moving the fingers of his left in the familiar manner of a healing spell. A soft light surrounded chest, and the burn wounds were healed immediately, the unscarred flesh visible beneath the ruined robe.

_Where is he taking this strength from? By all rights he should be utterly exhausted! The fight, the levitation, the wound... and another shield? That's impossible!_

_Unless..._

Malark hissed, drawing in the rapidly cooling air between his teeth.

_He wouldn't dare!_

"You are more resourceful than I had anticipated," Mudora said and rose into the air again, still protected against any attacks by his spell shield. He was a little short of breath, but his voice betrayed terrible determination.

"It seems like erasing you will be my final duty. But so be it."

Mudora continued to rise until he had reached his former altitude, and his body began to glow and became strangely transparent. Malark shuddered when he realized what he was doing – he recognized the technique at once, even though he had never seen it done before. The ancient Hylian was tapping the very lifeforce of his body – a technique known only to the most powerful wizards, but rarely ever used, because it spelled certain death for the user. It would enable him to cast spells well beyond the point of utter exhaustion, magic more powerful than anything demonstrated so far – and Malark would be unable to counter it without sacrificing his own life.

"Stop this, you idiot!" he shouted. "You're going to die!" _And I'll die, too – that's the real problem here!_

"I shall pay with my life for your death," Mudora answered from above. "An acceptable price, I think. And it's not like I didn't live long enough." He sounded completely at ease with his self-inflicted fate, which made everything even more infuriating.

"You idiot!" Malark repeated and hurled fireball after fireball at Mudora, who did not even bother dodging. His spell shield absorbed them all, and since he was drawing on the entirety of his body's life energy, it was bound to be much stronger than its previous iteration.

_I have to get out of here_, Malark thought and tried to teleport again, but the ward was still in place and more powerful than ever, fueled by the presence of the one who had created it: Malark knew that he had no chance breaking it in time.

_Then I'll blast my way out of here! _he thought frantically, and raced toward the closest wall, preparing an explosive spell as he ran.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Mudora said, and from one second to the next, Malark felt his body become heavy as lead. His finger movements stopped, and his half-completed spell evaporated between his palms. He sank to his hands and knees, struggling to keep himself from completely collapsing, but that was about all he could manage. The Triforce lowered itself next to his shoulder, and Malark might just have been strong enough to reach it with his hand, but there was no point to it. The damn thing did not obey him, and might just as well be mocking him.

_That spell shouldn't even work on me! _he protested in his mind. _People are too large for it, too heavy!_

But the phenomenon of the Life Tap was poorly researched – understandable enough, since everyone who actually used it died, so volunteers were rare. But clearly, conventional limitations of magic went out of the window once a wizard depleted the force that kept him alive to empower himself in his last minutes.

"I do not have much time left," Mudora intoned, "so I must hasten my final duty. As you killed Ixis with fire, so I shall now burn you to ashes! An eye for an eye!" Mudora paused, then chuckled hoarsely. "Then again, you may not appreciate such poetic justice. And you would probably prefer a more grandiose death, anyway." He moved both of his arms, and dark clouds appeared below the high ceiling of the room, immediately releasing torrential downpours of rain. "As I am sure you recall, I was once the Sage of Water!"

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Malark's voice was slow and heavy, because he had trouble even moving his lips. "At least finish me quickly!" Already his feet and hands were getting wet, and the water-level was rising rapidly.

"I think not," Mudora said coldly from above. "You shall drown here, Malark, in the middle of the desert! An unprecedented death to punish unprecedented treachery!"

"How can I be guilty of treachery?" Righteous anger overcame Malark, even though he should be using his precious time to think about a way to save his life. "I was never loyal to Hyrule to begin with! How can loyalty be true if it is not given willingly?"

"Neither of us has any time left for debate," Mudora cut him off, his voice strangely ethereal, and his body began to glow in all the colours of the prism as the effects of the Life Tap dissolved it. He would not outlive him for long, but Malark found no comfort in that knowledge.

_And I was so close! Damn him!_

The water rose above Malark's head, and he had to hold his breath, or he would have swallowed water. His hands and fingers were still heavy as lead, as were his feet, so there was no way to escape, no way to even cast a spell. Every last one of his body's senses informed him that he had lost and that he was going to die, and without a convenient backup body around this time.

_To think that I would die here! And against HIM, of all people!_

Malark held his breath, knowing that once water entered his lungs, it would all be over. It seemed foolish to struggle for these last few minutes even though there was no hope for him, but he could not help it. He would defy death for as long as he was able, and then face it with the contempt it deserved.

_"I don't want to die!"_ A familiar voice suddenly echoed at the back of Malark's mind. _"I don't want to die!" _Malark was utterly stupefied, but there was no mistaking it.

_Darion!_

_I don't know why you're suddenly yourself again, but just leave me in peace! The only thing worse than dying is dying while you're whining in my head!_

_"I don't want to die," Darion continued, heedless of Malark's mockery. "Please, I don't want to die! I'll do anything!"_

Prompted by Darin's plea, the blurry, golden shape of the Triforce caught Malark's eye, only a few inches from his right hand.

_Can it be? Can that pathetic fool truly save my life again?_

_"I don't want do die!"_

_This is no time for whining! There is something you can do – only you! Do you understand?_

_"Y-yes!"_

_Can I really do this? He's not going to let me live afterwards! _

Valid though they might be, Malark's concerns were academic: He could not hold his breath for much longer, and his burning lungs urged him to make a decision.

_I'll let you take control. Hurry!_

Malark withdrew himself from Darion's body, switching places with the prince's consciousness – he had no idea how to do that, but he somehow willed it to happen. With a frustrated cry, he felt the controls over his limbs and body vanish, and felt Darion's feeble mind take over once again. The prince lost no time, moved his weighted arm through the water until his hand touched the Triforce, opened his mouth and bubbled something unintelligible.

But the Triforce read the intent behind the words, and a golden beam shot upwards from its tip, parting the water and hitting Mudora in the chest. Malark's former teacher did not have time to scream: When the beam hit him, he was vaporized in an instant, with no remains to prove that he had ever existed. With his death, the force that had weighed down Darion's body vanished in an instant, and with jerky, panicked movements, the prince swam upward.

But the very instant his head burst above the waterline and his lungs were filled with precious oxygen, Darion's self vanished again, and Malark regained control as abruptly as he had relinquished it. Unprepared for Darion's sudden withdrawal, Malark almost sank below the water before he realized that his muscles obeyed him again and he began to swim.

_Darion, are you there? Can you hear me?_

But the prince did not answer. Only imminent death had galvanized him long enough to save himself, but now he was once again reduced to a dysfunctional, self-loathing mote of consciousness, hiding in the farthest reaches of Malark's mind. And that was just as well.

Since the room was not water-tight, the water level slowly began to drop, and Malark swam to the closest wall and held fast to it, greedily breathing in the air, an unsatiable glutton for oxygen. With Mudora dead and gone, he had all the time in the world now, so he waited patiently for the water to slowly recede while marvelling at his luck.

_If Mudora had finished me off, or if Darion had not been such a coward, I would be dead now._

Malark wondered whether he could count on Darion to always save him from now on when he he was in serious jeopardy, but dismissed that thought as utter idiocy: He was not going to come so close to death another time, not now that the only person who matched him in power was dead. And besides, Darion was nothing if not fickle – relying on him for his survival would not only be humiliating, but also foolish.

_It doesn't matter_, Malark thought when the water was finally gone and his feet were touching the wet sand. _After all, I did not come here for no reason. With that tooth, I'll be able to wipe out Darion for good – he better not be counting on any gratitude on my part. And then, the Triforce will finally be mine to command. _

Malark slowly walked through the large room, his every step accompanied by a sucking sound, scanning the floor until he found the priceless tooth half-buried in the wet sand and picked it up, determined not to drop it a third time. With a gloating grin, he raised his arm in a mocking salute to the charred remains of the dragon.

_And to you, too, my former teacher. What a pity that you do not even have a corpse to call your own._

With the death of the person who had erected it, the magical ward surrounding this room had been reduced to a fraction of its former strength, and Malark easily wiped it aside and teleported to the very top of Desert Colossus, where he allowed the desert sun to dry his clothes before beginning the preparations for the Mind Purge ritual.

Then, recalling the list of reagents which he had memorized, Malark began to teleport all over Hyrule to gather the necessary items, cursing Darion for the destruction of the Keep – if his personal stores had not been crushed, he would not be forced to waste so much time! Even though he knew all the right spots, it took him several hours to gather the needed reagents, including things like frog eyes, gold dust, and the withered leaves of a bomb flower. At two of the locations he visited, he encountered Hylians, but none of them recognized the body of their prince, which saved him the trouble to kill them.

When Malark returned to the Desert Colossus, he tracked down Unthok and told him that absolutely nothing was allowed to disturb him in the next ten hours – the self-induced hypnotic sleep during the Mind Purge ritual supposedly would last about that long.

"It is a complicated ritual," he explained, "and going through the trouble of gathering all the needed items again would displease me greatly." He glared at Unthok to communicate to him just how much it would displease him, but as usual, the Moblin King took his threats only half-serious and grinned stupidly.

"You have your orders," Malark said with a resigning shrug. "Do not disappoint me."

"Oh! Never!" the Moblin King said. "Good luck."

"I don't need _luck_," Malark said indignantly, although the events that had transpired in the dragon's den spoke a different language. He returned to the entrance of the archives to fetch his Stalfos guards, teleporting them along with himself to the top of the Desert Colossus, where he stationed them around the trap door that was the only way to reach this place from the Spirit Temple.

_All preparations have been made_, Malark thought and burned the collected reagents with blue fire, drawing in the resulting incense. He seated himself on the monolith's smooth surface, spoke the formula that would initiate the purifying trance and closed his eyes, not without glancing one last time at the Triforce floating next to him, inches above the ground.

_When I wake up, you will be mine. As will the world._

Within seconds, Malark felt his body become rigid as he drifted into the hypnotic trance of the purifying ritual with an expectant smile on his face.


	40. Shadow of the Colossus

**Chapter 40: Shadow of the Colossus**

"Still nothing?" Kotake asked, trying not to sound impatient. "Perhaps you're doing it wrong?"

"Oh shut up," Koume replied dourly, both of her hands clasping the magical necklace the Arbiter had given her. "I told you it's not working. Look." She pointed at the small gem that had been emitting a soft blue light when she had received it. "The light is gone."

"So you broke it when you dropped it in the fortress? Great."

"No! It stopped glowing at some point during the night, while we were walking! Stop trying to pin the blame on me!"

"She's right," Link chimed in. "It was still glowing when I met you yesterday."

"I hope you're not just saying that to be conciliatory," Kotake muttered.

"Why, I'd never..." The young Hylian in the strange green clothes grinned briefly. "Seriously, I saw it glowing, back when I complimented her on it."

"Oh, yes, I remember that," Kotake mocked. "I'm still convinced that moment was the beginning of a wonderful romance!"

"Shut up!" Koume hissed, and Link sighed audibly, shaking his head. "Sorry for trying to be nice," he said.

"Don't worry, Hylians aren't good at being nice," Kotake jeered. "It must be in the blood."

"That's enough!" Garanth raised his voice "Especially you, Kotake." The king raised his hand and pointed toward the Desert Colossus looming a mile off in the distance, surrounded by the tent city and the dark shapes of its occupiers. "Our enemies are over there! We didn't march the whole night only to start fighting amongst ourselves now."

Garanth's brother Astalor, fifth in their gathering of five, nodded silently, supporting his brother as he always did. Kotake threw her arms into the air and sighed. "I'm being singled out, how nice!"

"I won't have your prejudice endanger our unity," Garanth admonished her, ignoring her complaint. "Link is a welcome ally, and you will treat him as such."

"Please, I don't want to make a scene," the young Hylian said and raised his palms. "I know my countrymen don't treat you well, so-"

"That's no reason to insult you, who has done nothing of the sort," Garanth insisted. "Kotake, you will apologize."

_He's still a self-righteous ass_, Kotake thought. _It's almost a relief._ She looked at her sister for support, but Koume only shook her head slightly.

"You people can't take a joke," Kotake finally said. "I'm sorry, Link," she said and performed an exaggerated bow. "You're a good guy." She remembered his gift of a horse during their encounter in the Keep, and realized that this was actually true, at least as far as Hylians could be 'good guys'. "I think," she added quickly, if only to save face.

"Kotake apologized for something?" Astalor asked. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day."

"Now he is being childish," Kotake complained.

"Then let's all stop being childish and return to the matter at hand," Garanth said firmly. "The Arbiter isn't coming. Why is that?"

"I still think the necklace broke," Kotake muttered, which earner her a silent glare from Koume, but neither sister wished to incur Garanth's wrath again.

"Are you sure he didn't just change his mind?" Link asked. "From what you told me, this Arbiter is a rather odd fellow."

"No," Astalor said firmly. "He all but guaranteed that he would appear right on the spot the instant we called on him," Astalor chimed in. "And he sounded very serious about it. I can't imagine he'd just forget about his promise."

"And he has personal reasons, too," Kotake added, recalling the old wizard's desire to avenge his hometown. "That's why I think it broke – it's not that he doesn't want to come, he just doesn't receive our signal."

"Maybe something happened to him," Link suggested. "You said he wasn't feeling well."

"You don't mean he..." Koume did not say it out loud, but her fear was plain enough to read.

"I don't know the next thing about magic," Link said, "but perhaps the necklace is tied to the life of its owner."

"But he was feeling better!" Koume protested. "And it's not like somebody could just walk into his home and kill him!"

"Remember the Stalfos," Kotake reminded her. "He just walked in and almost killed him, too. And us," she added sourly.

"No," Koume insisted. "He can't be killed that easily!"

_Still a bit naive, aren't we, sister? People always die when you least expect them._

"You could just check on him," Link suggested. "I don't know how far it is, but I can lend you my horse."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Astalor said. "Even on horseback, it would take many hours to go all the way to the Arbiter's Grounds and back." He pointed at the tent city. "By now, the wizard and his monsters have surely seen us, and are preparing a sortie. We are pressed for time."

"I agree," Garanth said, massaging his chin. "But without the Arbiter's support, the battle will become much harder... especially now that we know that it is Malark whom we're facing, and not Prince Darion. I'd much rather have a wizard of our own to counter their wizard."

"But we can't just stay here!" Astalor spoke with the authority of a military commander. "They could attack and scatter us at any time. Who knows how fast these monsters can run. We either have to take the initiative or retreat." He turned his head and pointed at the Gerudo warriors lined up behind them, watching the war council with increasing impatience. "And I don't think the men want to retreat.. Now that the women and children are safe at the fortress, they want to attack and reclaim our home." Many cheers and warcries were raised when the warriors heard the words of their commander, which made Garanth scowl.

_Astalor is putting him in a bind here_, Kotake thought. _Though he probably doesn't even realize it. He's not crafty enough for that._

"There's another thing," Link suddenly said. "Malark isn't here without a reason. Whatever he's trying to achieve in your sanctum, the longer we wait, the more likely he is to accomplish his goal." He hesitated, then continued. "We concluded yesterday that it most likely has something to do with the Triforce. Believe me, you don't want the power of that thing used against you." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to banish a painful memory, and Kotake remembered the sea of ashes that had once been the largest town in Hyrule.

"He's right," she said. "We've seen its effects, too. If Malark manages to use the Triforce against us, we stand no chance at all. For what it's worth, I'm in favour of attacking right now." She looked at Koume who wanted to protest and said: "The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can check on the Arbiter." Her words had the intended effect, and Koume muttered a few words of agreement.

"So it's settled, then," Kotake said, trying to speed up the proceedings. "We're attacking as soon as-"

"Hold it," Astalor interrupted her.

_Of course it would be him_.

"What is it? You are in favour of attacking, too!"

"Yes, I am. But this is not a vote. Garanth will make the decision."

"Oh, yes. Forgive me for mixing up the chain of command." She turned toward Garanth. "So, your highness, what shall it be? Fight or flight?"

"I'm weighing our options," the king said with a slightly strained voice.

"Then weigh faster," Kotake said. "You're out of line!" Astalor immediately called out, but she merely stuck her tongue out at him and turned back toward his brother. But before Garanth could come to a decision, loud warning shouts from the assembled warriors directed everybody's attention toward the direction of the oasis, and they saw a lone figure racing toward them. It was a Moblin, and a rather large one at that, and he kept waving his spear over his head as he approached. A large white piece of cloth, probably ripped out of a tent, was attached to the spear's shaft, and it took Kotake almost a full minute to realize that it was supposed to be a white flag.

_I don't think I believe what I'm seeing..._

"Garanth, fall back," Astalor told his brother when the Moblin came closer. "We'll handle this." He drew his shield and sabre and stepped forward to meet the monster.

"Halt!" Garanth put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "He's an envoy! Look at the flag."

"Please tell me you're kidding," Koume said, her sabres drawn. "That's a Moblin."

"You can kill him if he attacks," the king insisted, "but not before." He turned toward the agitated soldiers, many of whom seemed ready to intercept the advancing Moblin. "That goes for all of you!"

"That's not just any Moblin!" Link said with audible disbelief. "That's their king!" He had drawn his weapons, too, and Kotake's gaze was momentarily drawn to the slightly glowing sword in his left hand – she suspected it was of magical origin, but this was not the time to ask about it.

"Link, please," Garanth said. "You're not duty-bound to me, but do as I say for now! I'll not have a messenger slain out of hand!" The young Hylian nodded, but did not re-sheath his sword, instead taking position next to Astalor and Koume. His face spoke volumes about his thoughts, and Kotake suspected that he, too, had a history with the Moblin King. Unwilling to be left out, she drew her sabres and joined the others in their protective formation.

_So that was the Moblin King whom Darion sent after us? _she asked herself when she recognized the large monster as it came to an abrupt stop ten feet in front of them. _We should tell him that his toy Stalfos is dead. I'm sure he'd be pissed off._

"Hello!" the Moblin King called out, a piggish grin on his face. Nobody answered his greeting. He kept waving his makeshift flag above his head for several seconds, then planted it in the sand with the spearhead down.

_Now he's vulnerable_, Kotake thought_, and he's not wearing his heavy armour. Should I... or shouldn't I?_

_No, he'd pull out the spear before I reached him. And besides... this monster attacked a dragon head-on, and was having fun while doing so!_ A slight shiver went through her, inside of the warmth of the desert morning. _I'd rather not attack him alone._

"What is it you want?" Garanth asked cautiously from behind them, nowhere near as demanding and imperious as he should have, in Kotake's opinion.

_These monsters are half-animals_, she thought. _You have to show them that you're not afraid, or they think you're weak!_

"Why are you waiting?" the Moblin King asked, a question to answer Garanth's question. "We are ready. Why not attack us now?"

"I don't understand," Garanth said, sounding genuinely confused. "Aren't you here to negotiate?"

"No, no!" The Moblin shook his head emphatically, as if Garanth was an ignorant child. "We're waiting! We're all so excited!"

"Did you come here to mock us, monster?" Astalor shouted. "You have some nerve!"

"Brother, please." Garanth raised his hand and looked at the Moblin again. "Are you saying you want us to attack you? Surely, you understand us well enough to know that this is only going to achieve the opposite."

"Maybe that's his plan," Kotake said. "To delay us. Reverse reverse psychology."

"Oh, hello, girls," the Moblin said and looked at Kotake and her sister. "We meet again." His gaze wandered to Link. "And you! Oh, this is fun!" Link was visibly gritting his teeth, clearly finding no fun at all, but he respected Garanth's wishes and stayed where he was.

"I'm talking to you!" Garanth barked, forcing the Moblin's attention back to him. "Explain yourself!"

_See, much better. Much more forceful._

"Look," the Moblin began, then hesitated. "How to explain this? You're not so smart..."

"What the hell?" Kotake and her sister burst out at the same time, but an imperious gesture from Garanth cut them off. "Try us," the Gerudo King said. "We may be smarter than you think."

"The wizard is there," the Moblin said and pointed his thumb at the Desert Colossus behind him. "Way up there. He's doing some magic with the Triforce thing. Very busy, very occupied. And you know what?" He leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "He's almost done!"

"Ridiculous!" Astalor shouted again. "Why should we believe anything you have to say?"

"Well, we know that Malark is doing _something_ in there," Link remarked. "Or up there. So he may be saying the truth."

"What? You believe that thing?" the king's brother asked. "He's just lying to lure us into a rushed attack!"

"You were in favour of attacking just a minute ago," Kotake pointed out.

"Yes, but... but it's different now!" Astalor's rebuttal sounded weak.

"I don't see how," Kotake replied and shrugged.

"Why would you betray your master by telling us this?" Garanth asked the Moblin.

"When he finishes, we leave," the strange envoy explained. "Leave without a fight." His snout drooped a little bit. "That would be sad."

"Doesn't seem out of character for him, if you ask me," Kotake said. "Of course you're not asking me, but I'm still saying it."

"So you're just in this to fight – anybody, for any reason?" Garanth asked incredulously.

"Hey, it's a monster," Kotake said. "Monsters fight. That's what they do. Right?" she asked in the direction of the Moblin, feeling mighty silly for it.

"Right," the creature nodded, visibly pleased that somebody understood its feelings. "We live to fight. So let's fight!"

"The people at the fortress weren't enough for you?" Garanth asked with suppressed rage. "You want even more slaughter?"

"Yes! Yes, you get it! You're smart after all!"

"Don't try to reason with him," Link said without turning around. "Let's just kill him here and now!"

"Uh-uh, you can't!" The Moblin pointed at the white cloth at his spear's shaft. "I'm an envoy!" An instant later, he pulled the weapon out of the sand and pointed it at Link, but without coming closer. "It's a joke. Please, come! Maybe you got stronger since last time!"

"No, Link!" Garanth called out. "Even if he doesn't take this flag seriously, I do. We'll let him walk. Leave us at once," he barked at the Moblin. "This 'negotiation' is over."

"So you're coming?" the Moblin King asked hopefully.

"Brother!" Astalor spoke intently. "This is their leader! If we kill him now, we-"

"Malark is their leader," Garanth said. "This one is just a minion. We'll kill him in due time. Now leave!" he shouted.

"All right," the Moblin said, grinning again. "Don't let us wait! It's impolite!" With an abrupt movement, he ripped the piece of cloth from his spear, shouldered the weapon, and raced back toward the oasis. Once he was out of sight, Kotake allowed herself to relax, as did the others.

"I still think that was foolishness," Astalor said to his brother, in the low voice reserved for criticising him in public. "We could have gained an advantage!"

"I think the point is moot now," Link chimed in. "He's gone."

"Indeed," Garanth said. "But there is something we learned from this: Whatever Malark is doing, it is demanding his undivided attention, or he would have noticed this betrayal and prevented it."

"Unthok said he's way up there, probably at the top," Link said and pointed at the Desert Colossus. "Doing some magic with the Triforce! That means we can't afford any more delays!"

_Unthok, eh? Lovely name for a Moblin._

"Yes, I'm afraid you're right." Garanth chuckled. "If both my friends and my enemies urge me to do the same thing, what choice to I have?" The king took a deep breath. "We're attacking as soon as we can. Astalor, ready the men."

"Now you're talking!" Kotake burst out. "Let's get this over with!"

"Not so fast, my dear," Garanth said. "We still have some strategizing to do."

"We have no time, or did you forget? We just have to attack them head-on!"

"I'm afraid I have to agree, brother," Astalor said. "We can't split up or circle around them or anything fancy – we're in the open desert, after all, and the monsters will see every move we make."

"A frontal attack..." Garanth sounded unhappy. "That will mean great losses, won't it?"

"It can't be helped," Astalor replied. "We're fighting for our home. What better reason does a man have to lay down his life for?" He looked at the twins, and added hurriedly: "Or a woman."

"Save it," Kotake said. "We're not fighting for that stupid statue. We're fighting for... uh... what were we fighting for again?" She recalled the stupid way she had allowed herself to be coaxed into this operation, and tried to immediately forget it again. "Let's not talk about that," she said.

"But we're not just fighting for our home," Garanth said, and turned around to address his warriors, who were eagerly awaiting their attack orders. "We're fighting to save all of Hyrule from a madman who would awaken the power of the gods! We will prove to everybody that we're not a tribe of desert bandits, but a proud race! This is the hour of the Gerudo!"

Predictably enough, cheers erupted among the warriors, who seemed to share their king's idealism. Kotake could not understand them, but she held back a cyncical remark – they were going into battle, after all, and had to rely on each other. Invoking the ire of the male warriors would do neither her nor her sister any good, so she smiled and bore the pathos.

Her gaze fell on Link, who seemed not to be listening, but was staring at the glowing blade of his sword, lost in his private thoughts that were probably centered around vengeance.

_Now there's a motive I can get behind. He may be the most reasonable of us all._

As if he had felt her stares, Link suddenly looked up and turned to Astalor.

"You should focus on drawing the Moblins away from the Spirit Temple," he said. "I'll go inside and make my way to the top, find the man with the Triforce and kill him. That's my task," he added and raised his magical sword. "Darion or Malark, it makes little difference."

_On second thought, he's pretty full of himself._

"Hm? Oh, yes," Astalor said, sounding a bit that this boy was giving him strategic advice. "But he's a wizard... you won't be able to defeat him on your own."

"There's no need to worry," the young Hylian said. "Even if he gains control of the Triforce, he cannot use it to hurt me."

_Definitely full of himself._

"That sword is supposed to protect you from the power of the gods?" Astalor asked, raising an eyebrow. "I admit it looks like a fine piece of work, but... are you really sure about that?"

"I can't reveal where I got it from," Link said, "but I have it on good authority that it'll work."

"Only against the Triforce?" Astalor asked further. "Or against conventional magic as well?"

"Uh... you got me there," Link admitted. "They didn't say anything about ordinary magic."

"A fireball can kill you just as easily as the power of the gods," Astalor said. "But..." He rubbed his chin and bobbed his head from side to side as if he was contemplating something. "Very well," he finally said. "Since I'll be leading our main force against the Moblins, and since you proved your combat prowess by destroying an enemy that handily defeated me, I'll entrust you with the task of killing Malark. Once we've reached the entrance of the Spirit Temple, you'll go in first, followed by a dozen of my best men."

"No," Link said and shook his head. "The numbers don't favour you as it is. I'll go alone."

"Don't be stupid," Astalor admonished him. "You don't even know the way to the top."

"If I see a stair or a ladder, I'll be sure to go up, not down," Link said. "Sorry," he added when he saw the annoyed expression on Astalor's face. "I didn't mean to be snarky."

"I'm not so easily insulted," the king's brother said, and Kotake had to fight the urge to prove him wrong by provoking him. "At any rate, if you're facing the wizard, you should take this with you." He reached around his back with both arms and loosened the red-rimmed silver shield – the gift from the Arbiter, as Kotake now knew. "This shield is called the 'Mirror Shield'. It will reflect all conventional magic the wizard might throw at you," he said and offered it to Link. "Together with that sword, it should give you a fair chance."

"Reflect all magic?" Link sounded not quite convinced, but he accepted Astalor's offer, and gave him his own shield in return. Kotake wrinkled her nose when she saw the Hylian crest on it, but once again held her tongue.

"I have it on good authority that it'll work," Astalor said with a smirk. "In fact, the Arbiter demonstrated its effectiveness to me once, long ago. Almost burned himself in the process, too."

"I'll make good use of it," Link promised and fastened the Mirror Shield on his back.

"Yes," Garanth said. "We must make use of every advantage if we hope to succeed."

"Please promise me to stay a ways behind the front lines, brother," Kotake could barely hear Astalor whisper in his brother's ear. "You are the king, and we can't afford to lose you."

"It is precisely because I am the king that I cannot shirk back from the danger," Garanth whispered back.

"Brother, please!" Astalor insisted, and an argument seemed about to break out when Link intervened.

"Uh... sorry for overhearing, but I could lend King Garanth my horse for the duration of the battle. That way, he can stay close and still escape when things get dangerous."

"An excellent idea," Garanth said. "I've ridden camels before – a horse can't be much different, can it?"

"Barely," Kotake assured him.

"Then it's settled," Garanth said and clapped his hands, although Astalor still seemed to have misgivings. "We're attacking at once. Astalor, command rests with you. Link, you'll do what you can to slay the wizard. You two," he pointed at the twins. "You'll.. yes, what will you do?"

"I'll stay close to the esteemed commander," Kotake said. "To make sure that he doesn't swindle on his Moblin kill count."

"We are about to go to war, Kotake," Astalor sighed. "This isn't fun."

"You're just not twisted enough to _see_ the fun," Kotake said and giggled. "Come on, Koume, let's show him just well women can fight."

"Sure thing," Koume said, although her enthusiasm was dampened by concern – possibly for the Arbiter, or Link, or simply all of them.

_She can worry for both of us, then. She's better at that, anyway._

With a single shouted command, Astalor set his men into motion, and five hundred Gerudo warriors, two of them women, a king on horseback and one young Hylian began marching toward the Desert Colossus. They walked in solemn silence that even the ever-disrespectful twins shared, their feet crunching on the sand beneath the moderately hot morning sun, each of them thinking their own, private thoughts.

_I've never fought Moblins before_, Kotake realized. _But they're probably slow, right? And stupid. Can't forget stupid._

_And I mustn't forget to keep count!_

As the Gerudo army approached the oasis, Kotake saw their enemies assume formation, their massive, dark shapes converging into a phalanx several rows deep, their long spears extended.

_Must not impale myself, must not impale myself_, Kotake repeated as a mantra in her head. As stupid as it sounded, this danger was real, especially since the Moblins seemed to wait for the Gerudo to charge against their defensive line. She saw Unthok, too, a brute towering above all other brutes, and she swore the wind carried the sound of eager giggling to her ears.

_Well, as long as I keep my distance from the big one, it should be all right. Let somebody else deal with that crazy monster._

"Halt!" Astalor shouted when the distance between Moblins and Gerudo had shrunk to about fifty feet. The Desert Colossus cast its large shadow across both armies and the prospective battlefield between them, and Kotake suspected that both sides would soon be grateful for that shadow once the heat of battle had set in.

"Assume attack formation!" came Astalor's command. So far, only the king's brother, Link and the twins had been marching at the very front line – a dubious honour indeed, Kotake thought – but now they were joined by dozens of Gerudo warriors who assumed a tiered formation similar to that of the Moblins. Even though she held her fellow Gerudo in disdain most of the time, Kotake was still relieved to be surrounded by strong fighters on both sides.

"The formation won't stay that orderly once the battle is joined," Astalor told the sisters specifically. "Watch the backs of your comrades, and they'll watch yours."

"Yes, that's how we always fight," Kotake said, unwilling to be given basic pointers like a novice. "Right, sister?"

"Right," Koume said. "Hey, are you listening?" She gently punched Link in the side, drawing the attention of the young Hylian who had been utterly focused not on the Moblins, but on the vast monolith ahead and the colossal statue chiselled therein.

"Uh, yes," he said absent-mindedly.

"Look, I know you want to kill Malark," Kotake said, "but if you don't concentrate on the battle, you'll never even get to the entrance of the Spirit Temple."

"You're right, of course," Link said and grinned meekly. "I'm sorry."

"And watch where you stick that precious sword of yours," Kotake added. "And don't lose Astalor's shield, or he'll get mad."

The faint golden glow on Link's sword gave her a sudden idea. Focusing in the manner the Arbiter had taught her, she concentrated on her own sabres and coated their blades with a thin, but sharp-edged layer of ice.

"Hey, Koume, look!" she called out. "Neat, huh?"

"Hm? Oh, I can do that, too," her sister replied and heated up her own sabres until they were red-hot, as if freshly-forged. "Good thinking," she acknowledged Kotake's idea. "It'll hurt much more like that."

"Wow," Link muttered from next to Koume. "I didn't know you were witches."

"Twinrova, at your service," Koume giggled and bowed.

"Please don't use that stupid name," Kotake pleaded with her.

"What? I thought you liked it."

"No, I don't."

"Warriors of the Gerudo, heed me!" Astalor shouted.

"Ssh, it's time for the Big Inspirational Speech," Kotake said. She tried not to listen too closely to the king's brother, for fear that the sheer pathos might make her lose her breakfast. She heard something about 'slaying the foul monsters' – that part was to her liking – and 'dying for their home' – that part, not so much. The speech seemed to go on forever, and Kotake thought she heard Unthok's voice at one time, urging Astalor to hurry up.

_I agree with a Moblin. What is this world coming to?_

"The Sand Goddess herself is watching over us," Astalor shouted and extended his hand toward the Desert Colossus. Kotake tried to catch a glimpse of Malark – if he was truly up there – but the flat top of the monolith could not be seen from below.

_He must be very busy indeed if he isn't even taking a look. I hope he stays that way until Link impales him on his shiny sword._

"There is nothing more to say," Astalor shouted, and Kotake found herself thanking the Sand Goddess for the first time in a decade. "Watch out for your comrades, and fight bravely. Forward!"

_Finally!_

"Let's not screw up," Koume said next to her. Kotake nodded firmly, her frost sabres in hands, as the Gerudo army walked – walked, not charged – toward the Moblin, quickly adjusting their speed to keep their formation. The desert warriors wore grim expression as they marched toward their enemies, while the Moblins themselves seemed rather happy to finally get the fight they had been itching for, and only the guttural howls of their leader seemed to keep them in place.

_And here we go!_

The advancing Gerudo clashed with their monstrous enemies with a myriad of noises: Metal clashing against metal, metal cutting wood, metal cutting flesh, and the screams that resulted from the latter. Kotake severed the spear of the closest Moblin, only to see her opponent produce a shorter lance from behind his back and take several quick jabs at her. She only dodged them by turning to her side, almost bumping into Koume as she spun around, and managed a deep cut in the monster's weapon arm. The wound itself was almost crippling, but the deathly chill on her blade numbed the Moblin's hand, and the pig-creature only stared at its own arm when Kotake went in for the kill, slashing its throat.

_Heh. Stupid, as I thought!_

The Moblin's death bought her a second to check for her sister, and she saw with relief that Koume was still right next to her, engaged in a duel with a Moblin who used a sword as his primary weapon. Kotake did not get to see the end of it, though, for another Moblin came charging toward her, stepping on the corpse of his fallen comrade and stabbing at her with his lance. Crowded in on both sides, Kotake jumped back and collided with a Gerudo warrior in the second row. The man staggered backwards, but his fall was absorbed by the men waiting behind.

_Waiting for the first row to die so they can take our places_, Kotake realized with a sudden shiver.

_But there's no turning back now, so I better make it out alive._

The Moblin in front of her was heavily injured by a sabre coming from Kotake's left and retreated while pressing its paws against the wound, only to be replaced by two of its fellows who both tried to impale Kotake and only hindered each other as their spears collided. She quickly severed them both with one cut and thrust her off-hand toward one of the Moblins, cutting its gut open. She tried to move in for the kill when a Gerudo warrior collided with her and almost sent her to the ground, leaving her momentarily lost amidst the chaos until she fitted herself back into the formation.

_This isn't good_, she thought. _It's way too chaotic... I can't even demonstrate my superior skills!_

_And I might be killed without even seeing where the spear came from. Yeah, that too._

Kotake heard Koume cry out, but recognized it as a sign of frustration, not pain – she probably had the same problems as her sister. She turned into the direction of her voice, but a bulky Gerudo warrior moved in between her, dragging a wounded comrade to safety, and she lost sight of her sister.

_Hmpf, weren't we supposed to watch each others' backs?_

_Then again, it's not like there's a lack of backs to watch_, Kotake thought and brought her left sabre between a Gerudo's back and a Moblin's lance, saving the man from certain death. Unfortunately, over the noise of battle, he did not even notice, occupied with his own opponent. The Moblin thus sabotaged turned to face Kotake, but received a wound from a different Gerudo and pursued his assailant with furious grunts, leaving Kotake momentarily without an enemy.

_That means I can pick one. How nice._

A spearhead suddenly grazed her left arm, tearing cloth and drawing blood. Like most Gerudo, Kotake and her sister had only disdain for armour, since it restricted mobility and increased perspiration, but right now, she would have traded one of her sabres for a set of chain mail like the ones the Moblins were wearing.

_It doesn't even hurt. Probably will later, though._

Something green flashed in the throng of Moblins ahead of her, and Kotake heard the grunts and screams of Link, who turned out to be a rather noisy fighter. The tides of battle carried him away from her as quickly as they had brought him, but Kotake was satisfied – not relieved, but satisfied – to see him alive and well.

Now if only she could spare the time to find Koume! But no, there was another Moblin trying to impale her, and a dying Gerudo grabbing her ankles, begging for her help, and a triumphant howl nearby that could only have come from the Moblin King who was probably felling her comrades by the dozen. But a few thrusts and cuts and almost-deaths later, Kotake heard a female-sounding victory cry somewhere near and made her way toward its origin, finding her sister standing atop a Moblin corpse.

"Well?" Koume asked with ragged breath upon recognizing her sister. "Is it fun?" Kotake only shook her head once. "Not one bit. I stand corrected," she said. "So who's winning?"

"I have no – look out!"

Koume leapt past her sister and brought her sabres down on a Moblin who had approached her from behind, cutting off a spear along with the arm that held it. Kotake spun around and finished the offending Moblin and gave the staggering corpse a kick that sent it into another of its kind.

"Thanks," she said between her teeth.

"You're welcome."

Finally reunited, the sisters turned their backs to each other, which at least provided them with a little cover in this sea of pushing bodies and razor-sharp metal, and fought back to back, occasionally finding enough breath for a warning shout or a brief burst of conversation.

"Where's Astalor?" Kotake asked.

"Near the centre."

"And where are we?"

"Not near the centre."

"Great."

Hours passed – or possibly minutes, Kotake was not sure; her sense of time was thoroughly confounded on account of the huge monsters trying to kill her. She killed or helped kill at least two more Moblins during that time, only to realize that she had not kept count, having readjusted her priorities from showing off to surviving. She received two stab wounds on her left side, but none of them deep enough to be dangerous. At least that was what she thought, since there was no time to check.

_So how long is this going to take?_ Kotake wondered. _Until one side is wiped out?_ Then she remembered the objective of getting Link into the Spirit Temple, and took the next opportunity to oversee the battlefield. She found that the fighting had spread out over a larger area, though still mostly restricted to the vast, rhomboid shadow of the Desert Colossus. The utter chaos had been replaced by dozens upon dozens of small melees, often separated by only a few feet from another group of fighters locked into mortal combat. Neither group affected the other unless they accidentally collided, which still happened quite often.

The only place where an appreciable formation was still being maintained was near the entrance of the Spirit Temple, where a long line of Moblins blocked the way into the Sanctum, led by Unthok himself, who was visibly cherishing the carnage around him, grunting and howling louder than any other soul on the battlefield. The thought that a living thing could actually be _enjoying _this made Kotake shiver.

"I see Astalor," Koume gasped between two breaths, fighting off a limping Moblin whose nasty leg injury did not seem to douse his fighting spirits. "And Link, too. Near the entrance."

Kotake helped her sister kill the limping Moblin and followed her finger, recognizing the green-clad Hylian and the king's brother fighting next to each other, perhaps the only two combatants who were using shields. A dozen Gerudo warriors were with them, and Astalor was slowly leading the small group toward the Spirit Temple entrance.

"Let's help them," Kotake said, in spite of the knowledge that doing so would put them in the immediate vicinity of the Moblin King.

"Right," Koume nodded. "Over there!"

The twins moved toward their destination as quickly as safety allowed (if the concept of 'safety' was even applicable here), slipping past smaller groups of fighters whenever possible. The reserves on both sides had been committed by now, replacing the fallen and pushing forward, thus opening the view into the desert. Kotake saw the lone, red-haired man on horseback watching the battle from a moderate distance, shielding his eyes against the sun with one hand and clenching the other into a fist.

_I would so trade places with him now._

But there was no running away, of course – she still had her pride to consider, and Kotake's pride was stronger than any fear. Simultaneously stabbing two Moblins from behind (and saving two Gerudo from a grisly end in the process), the twins reached the outer wall of the Desert Colossus, and soon enough joined Astalor's group.

"Why, hello there," Kotake called out, and was dismayed that the hoarseness of her voice ruined the casualness of her words. _War destroys all pretences, it seems._

"We thought you could need some help," Koume added.

"Don't talk," Astalor hissed without looking at them, "fight!"

_Man, he's even more of an ass on the battlefield. Although I can kind of see why._

"Can do," she said and nodded at Link. "Good to see you in one piece."

"Likewise," the young Hylian responded, also without looking at her.

_Note to self: War also destroys all courtesy._

Reinforced by the twins, who were contributing pretty well (or so Kotake thought), Astalor's group fought its way along the wall of the Desert Colossus, using the monolith to shield their backs, and managed to reach the Moblins' defensive line without losing more than one or two warriors. Kotake only now noticed how heavy her breath was going, but circumstances forced her to ignore it. The others were every bit as exhausted, too, so she would certainly not give up before them.

_Stupid! I will not give up AT ALL! I'm not going to lay down and be killed by some dumb Moblin! There has to be a better death in it for me – preferably a couple of centuries in the future._

"Hello, friends!" a slobbering voice suddenly came from somewhere close to Kotake. "Let's fight!" It was Unthok, who was still blocking the only door leading into the Spirit Temple together with six Moblins almost as large as he was.

"You have to come here," he continued while waving his spear above his head. "I can't leave the door! Orders, you know?"

"Just you wait!" Astalor shouted and motioned his warriors – that included Kotake, too, she realized – to form a wedge formation of sorts, to break through the defending Moblins. She was not used to following orders, but decided to obey and became part of the rough triangle, situated on the left side along with her sister, with Astalor in front and Link right behind him.

"We just need to kill one to create a gap," the young Hylian shouted over the battle noise. "It doesn't have to be the big one."

"But wouldn't that be nice," Astalor replied. "Go!" The king's brother dashed toward the defending Moblins, his borrowed shield raised high, displaying a degree of courage that earned him Kotake's grudging respect while she and the others followed him. He feigned an attack on the Moblin King, who greeted him with a shower of drool, then changed his target at the last moment and stabbed the unsuspecting Moblin next to Unthok in the gut. But the monsters accompanying their king were made of stern stuff, and the creature merely grunted and pushed Astalor back with his spear. Koume stabbed at the Moblin King through a gap between the two warriors in front of her, while Kotake looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was attacking them from behind. Link attacked no one, holding himself ready a few paces behind Astalor to break through any opening as soon as it presented itself.

"Hit them hard!" Astalor called out and changed his target to the Moblin King himself, only to have his shield pierced by a single powerful spear thrust and was forced to abandon it. "Great Hylian workmanship," he growled, which prompted a mumbled apology from Link, which in turn made Kotake laugh. She shivered when she heard Unthok laugh in return and look at her with a knowing grin, as if the two of them shared some secred understanding about the humour of war.

_No, I'm not your kindred spirit. Leave me alone!_

A gurgling scream in front of her commanded Kotake's attention, and she saw that Koume had stabbed the throat of one of the Moblins' with her tempered blade, sending it staggering backwards into the Spirit Temple and to the floor. Kotake turned toward Link to notify him of the gap, but the young Hylian had already seen it and rushed through it, bashing the Moblin trying to take his comrade's place in the face with the Mirror Shield. Unthok yelled something in what Kotake presumed was Moblin language and turned around to take a stab at the running Hylian, missing him narrowly.

The broad back of the Moblin King was such an inviting target that at least three sabres struck it at once as soon as he turned around, one of them Astalor's. The monster's mail shirt prevented the blades from penetrating too deep, but the sheer force of the blows sent Unthok staggering forward with a surprised howl. It almost looked as if he was losing his balance, but then he spun around on one foot with surprising nimbleness and impaled one of the Gerudo warriors who had dared to attack him.

"Not good!" he growled with palpable anger – anger because Link had slipped through his defences, Kotake realized, not because of his wounds. Still, as long as Astalor, the twins and the other Gerudo were facing them, none of the Moblins could turn around and pursue Link, who had already taken a corner and vanished in the Spirit Temple.

"Go for it!" Kotake heard her sister shout. "Kill Darion! I mean Mal... ah, forget it."

"We'll buy you time!" Astalor added, although Link surely was out of earshot by now.

_Unless he fell into one of those stupid bottomless pits_, Kotake thought. _But let's hope he's not that clumsy._

"Not good. Not good," Unthok repeated, but found himself under a renewed and continued assault by the Gerudo, who threw himself at him to buy Link some time. Many of them fell, and suddenly Kotake found herself opposite to Unthok, between Astalor and her sister, hacking away at the Moblin King who somehow managed to parry five sabres at once with his oversized metal spear. Furiously, he thrust it forward, sending the twins and Astalor staggering back. But the king's brother managed to get a hold of the spear's shaft with one arm, saw an opportunity, and dropped his sabre to drag at it with both hands, wrestling the Moblin King for control of his weapon.

"Oh! Ho! Brave little man!" Unthok shouted while pulling Astalor toward him, kicking at his groin. "Brave and stupid!" Kotake struggled back to her feet and wanted to attack the distracted Moblin King, but by now, so many of their small group had fallen that she was forced to keep two of Unthok's companions occupied, unable to help Astalor, and she saw that Koume was in a similar situation.

_Come on, do it! _she cheered silently while hitting one of her enemies at the elbow, numbing its arm with her frost sabre. _Take his weapon and kill him with it! Think of the irony!_

Then, from the corner of her eye, Kotake saw Unthok's head suddenly shoot toward Astalor's neck, its yellow-teethed snout wide open, and with a horrible scream, the king's brother staggered backwards, clutching the gushing red hole where the Moblin King had ripped out his throat. His left leg gave in and he tumbled toward Kotake, looking at her with pleading eyes, and without a second's hesitation, she brought down both of her sabres on his ruined neck and severed his head from his shoulders, putting him out of his misery.

"Shit," she muttered to herself. "Shit, shit, shit!" She saw Unthok spit out something red and turned away, focusing on the Moblin who was attacking her. Then she saw the warrior on her left fall, and a short glance told her that there she and Koume were the only members of the original group left alive. Koume had seen the same thing, and the twins' gazes met for an instant.

"Fall back!" both of them yelled and turned tail, running toward the closest group of Gerudo warriors fighting at the far end of the Desert Colossus. There were still four Moblins alive at the Spirit Temple's entrance, not counting their king, and the only thing that saved the twins on their hasty retreat was the monsters' discipline: They had been ordered not to move, and so they did not move; except for Unthok, whom Kotake saw vanish into the Spirit Temple to go after Link, his spear raised and his face bloody as he turned his head and barked one last order to the remaining Moblins. Then Kotake saw a group of eight or nine Moblins arrive at the entrance, reinforcing the guards there. With Gerudo warriors spread all over the battlefield and their commander dead, she knew there was no way they were going to get anybody else through. It all rested with Link now.

_So how much time did we buy him?_ Kotake wondered as she and her sister joined a small band of warriors who had just dispatched the last of their monstrous enemies. _One minute? One and a half?_

_Pretty damn little, that's for sure._

"He'll make it," Koume gasped as she came to a stop next to her, her thoughts focused on the young Hylian, too. "He has to." Not one to harbour unrealistic hopes, Kotake chose not to reply to that. "What now?" she asked instead.

"What happened to Astalor?" one of the warriors of their new-found group asked, but Kotake merely shook her head.

"We must tell his second," the man said after a moment of shock. "And the king," another said, looking over his shoulder at the lone Gerudo on horseback watching the battle, not yet aware that his brother had fallen.

"You go tell him," Kotake said, gasping for air, only now noticing the black spots in the corners of her eyes. "I'm taking a break."

"No breaks," Koume said with unusual determination. "No rest. Not for any of us."

Almost on cue, a small band of Moblins who had just killed all of their nearby foes noticed the twins' group and came charging toward them, jeering and grunting and generally having a disgustingly good time among all the blood and death and misery.

"Fine," Kotake wheezed, resigning herself to her fate and raised her sabres again, gathering what was left of her strength for the Moblin onslaught. "No rest. We fight until we drop."

"Until we drop," Koume echoed her sister, her tempered blades at the ready. "Or until we win."

"Yeah, right. Whatever," Kotake snorted, unable to appreciate her sister's optimism. "Let's just get on with this."

"Yes," Koume nodded. "Let's."

Then the Moblins were upon them, and the carnage continued.


	41. The Wind of Death

**Chapter 41: The Wind of Death**

Link raced through the torchlit halls of the Spirit Temple without ever looking back, throwing open doors and glancing into rooms on his search for stairs or ladders; anything that would lead him to the top of the monolith where his enemy was waiting. He knew that there was no time to lose, that at any moment a horde of Moblins might come crashing through the corridors behind him, probably led by Unthok himself.

_I have to reach the top before that happens._

Even though he had tried to hold back as much as he could during the fighting outside, Link's arms and legs ached from trading blows with the Moblins, and hot sweat ran down his face, and the strands of his soaked hair kept falling before his eyes. He had not been injured, though, and praised the Goddesses for that fact, as well as the shield Astalor had given him – an excellent piece of workmanship that had not suffered a single dent under even the strongest blow. Even though it was cast entirely out of metal, it was deceptively light, and Link hardly felt its weight on his back as he scoured the Spirit Temple for any means to reach the top. With a pang of guilt, he remembered how easily Unthok had destroyed the shield he had given to Astalor, and hoped that the king's brother was all right.

_Not all of them will be all right_, he realized. _The Gerudo are fighting and dying right now – I have to use this chance! I have to hurry!_

But although he hoped that Malark's death at his hands would end the battle raging outside, Link wondered whether Unthok and his monsters would not simply continue the fight for their enjoyment, regardless of whether their master was dead or alive.

_That's out of my hands. I have to kill Malark, so he can't hurt another living soul._

Not for the first time, Link asked himself whether Garanth's words were really true – whether the old Sheikah wizard had somehow managed to possess Darion's body after his own death. The Gerudo King had spoken with unshakable conviction, but still... perhaps Darion had only been pretending to be Malark, to place the blame at somebody else's feet. Surely, he must have gone thoroughly insane by now – perhaps he even believed it himself?

_I'll get the chance to see for myself, but I must find him first. I have to get to the top of this rock!_

After a few minutes of passing through largely empty rooms, Link reached a flight of stairs and followed them upwards, reaching a large room with a statue depicting a female deity of some sort – a statue within a statue, he idly realized while climbing another set of stairs. He reached a locked door on his way, but had no time to search for a key: He simply cut an opening into the wooden door and climbed through it, careful not to injure himself, and continued on his way. He found another stair, and then another, and estimated that he was pretty close to the top now, where he would find the Triforce and its evil master.

_Unless Unthok lied about him being up here_, he thought. _He could have been following orders when he told us about it, in order to mislead us._

_No time for useless worries now. I am committed, and I have to hurry!_

Almost on cue, Link ran into a dead end, wasting a precious minute backtracking his way through the empty rooms of the Spirit Temple, rooms that seemed to serve no other purpose than waste his time. He imagined the amount of work and effort it must have taken to chisel all these rooms into the monolith, done by ancient Gerudo with primitive tools, and shuddered.

_And yet they don't live inside here, but in tents. Must be a religious prohibition or something like that._

Link reached another dead end – a storage room full of wooden crates and chests, but without doors or stairs leading outside. With a curse, he turned around to leave, almost overlooking the handholds that had been chiseled into the wall at the far side of the room, leading all the way to the ceiling – and the square-shaped hole in that ceiling, covered from above with what looked like a wooden trap door.

_This is it! _Link rejoiced, only to promptly chide himself._ And I almost didn't see it! I have to concentrate more!_ He walked swiftly toward the ladder-of-sorts in the wall and was about to climb it when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Found you, naughty boy!"

Link span around on the spot, drawing the Master Sword and the Mirror Shield as he did, and cursed when he saw the massive shape of Unthok standing in the frame of the door, his spear pointed at him.

_Of all Moblins, it's him! Can't I catch a break?_

"I am happy, too," the Moblin King said, grinning, his snout red with fresh blood. "The wizard is up there," he said, raising his spear toward the trap door. "He'd be so angry if I let you through." He trembled in mock-fear. "Sooo angry."

Link did not reply and narrowed his eyes, trying to peer into the corridor beyond the Moblin King. Unthok noticed his glances and chuckled.

"It's just me, all alone. Nobody else." He made several steps forward until he was in the centre of the store room. "The others are fighting outside, having fun."

"It's not very professional for a commander to leave his army in the middle of a battle," Link said aloud, slowly walking toward the Moblin King, holding his shield before his chest, his sword ready to strike. He was surprised at the steadiness of his voice – he remembered how easily this creature had felled multiple Hylian soldiers during their last encounter. What made him think that he could beat him?

_This way of thinking isn't helping!_

"I'm not a professional," Unthok said, having difficulties to pronounce the word. He watched Link come closer and closer, licking his bloodied snout, playing with the shaft of his spear. "I'm just Unthok."

"I am Link," Link said, although he had no idea why he was introducing himself to a monster.

_Perhaps I can catch him off guard. It's possible... he's very confident. Perhaps too confident._

"No," the Moblin King shook his head, tightening the grip on his spear as Link came to a halt before him. "You're a naughty boy." He smiled again, baring his large yellow teeth. "You must earn your name. Moblins have to kill a hundred enemies before they get a name."

"Too bad I'm not a Moblin," Link said, and let his eyes travel over Unthok's massive body, looking for possible weak points, his muscle tense, ready to react immediately should his enemy attack first.

_The spear looks like iron – I can't cut that. And he's wearing a mail shirt, like myself. His head is unprotected, but he probably has a thick skull._

_I'll go for the legs,_ he decided, seeing that they were only covered by a pair of dyed leather pants, with the exception of the groin area that was protected by a metal cup. Unthok was saying something which he evidently thought was funny, for he burst out into laughter, sending a shower of spittle in Link's face.

_This is my opportunity_, Link thought and jumped abruptly forward, aiming the Master Sword at Unthok's right thigh. Preoccupied with his own amusement, the Moblin King was slow to react, and his laughter turned into a pained grunt when the gleaming blade cut his flesh to the bone. He withdrew his leg and thrust his spear toward Link, but he moved the Mirror Shield in time to block the attack, pushed backwards by the sheer force of the thrust.

"Still a naughty boy," Unthok grunted and made a quick step forward, noticably dragging his right leg behind him. "And sneaky, too."

"I aim to please," Link said and attacked again, this time going for the left leg. But Unthok was no fool and blocked the Master Sword with the shaft of his spear, then immediately pushed back and tried to disarm Link. The Moblin King was much stronger than him, and holding his weapon with both hands, so Link decided to disengage and stepped several paces backward and to the left, almost stepping into a wooden crate.

_Couldn't he have caught me in a bigger room?_

Unthok pursued Link through the room, again dragging his injured leg behind him. Link had hoped to cut an artery, but judging from the measly blood flow, he had no such luck. Still, he had hampered his enemy's movement, and he had to capitalize on that advantage. He began to move in wide circles around Unthok, only darting in after a spear thrust missed him, aiming for his legs or arms, then immediately withdrawing again. He managed to land two more hits, both of them on the Moblin's left arm, and Unthok grew increasingly frustrated.

"This is no fun," he bellowed while jabbing futilely at his enemy. "Stay still!"

_Not in your dreams, monster._

His circular manoeuvres led Link to the door of the store room, but he decided against slipping through it – the room was better suited for his movements than the narrow corridor beyond, and what was perhaps the only way leading up to Malark or Darion was inside. He had to defeat Unthok here and now.

"No fun," the Moblin King said again when another of his jabs missed Link. A dangerous grin came over his face. "But I can make it fun!" He raised his large spear over his shoulder like a throwing weapon, moved his arm backwards, and hurled it at Link. Utterly taken aback by this, Link almost froze on the spot and only dove away at the last second. The spear hit the wall behind him, and the decorative skulls tied to shaft broke when it hit the floor harmlessly.

_What is he thinking? Why did he throw away his weapon?_

_It must be a trick!_

Link inspected the Moblin King once again, but saw no other weapons on his body other than a short dagger on his belt. But he did not draw that blade, but simply stood in the middle of the room, motioning Link to come closer. Wary of a feint of some sort, Link did the opposite and kept his distance, staying in his half of the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You have a nice sword," Unthok replied and grinned. "I want it." He raised his weaponless hands and assumed a stance that Link had once seen a travelling martial artist use – it made him look somewhere in between ridiculous and threatening. "Give it to me!"

"Are you stupid?" he asked, but Unthok merely grunted once and staid where he was, waiting for Link to attack him.

_Of course. He's sick of being outmaneuvered, and wants to lure me in to disarm me. And I have to come close if I want to strike him._

_But no sane person would take such a needless risk for no reason!_

_Then again, he's not exactly sane._

"Come on," Unthok urged Link to move in. "Are you scared?" Instead of answering, Link put the Mirror Shield on the floor and seized the hilt of the Master Sword with both hands.

_Now I won't drop it, even if he strikes my arms before I hit him. And I can't waste this chance, either!_

Even without his weapon, the Moblin King was still grinning, inviting Link to attack him with an eager nod. His confidence made Link nervous.

_Why am I hesitating? He's unarmed! Every advantage is mine!_

"I can wait all day," Unthok said casually. "Can you?"

_I'm not afraid of this monster! _Link told himself and dashed toward the Moblin King. Rather than raising his sword above his head and leaving himself open, he held it forward like a spear as he ran, watching Unthok's legs in case he tried to sidestep. But the Moblin King tried no such thing. Still grinning, he extended his arms toward Link and seized the blade of his sword, close to the tip, trying to pull it out of his hands, using his own momentum against him.

An instant later, Unthok let go of the blade and roared in agony, made a huge leap backwards and lost his balance, crashing into a pile of wooden crates and spilling their various contents on the floor. He was bleeding from deep cuts in his palms – that much was to be expected when one tried to catch a sword with one's bare hands, Link thought idly. Dark smoke rose from his hands, too, as if the blade of the Master Sword was searing hot – which it was not, as Link confirmed with a quick touch.

_What the hell? _Link asked himself even as he lunged forward to make the most of the unexpected development. Then the memory of the Goddesses' words came to him:

"WE SHALL IMBUE THIS BLADE WITH LIGHT, SO THAT EVIL ONES MAY NEVER TOUCH IT."

_He's evil all right. Good to know that the sword's moral compass works correctly._

To his credit (and Link's annoyance), Unthok was back on his feet before Link reached him and struck his arm with his right fist, but Link was prepared and did not allow his grip on the Master Sword to waver. He thrust the gleaming blade toward the Moblin King's throat, and his massive enemy leapt backwards, rolling clumsily across the floor, crashing into yet another crate. Eager to finish him off, Link leapt forward and slashed at his leg, but missed when Unthok rolled aside and nimbly leapt to his feet.

"You have a magic sword," he complained. "Not fair."

"Ha!" Link barked, actually amused by the Moblin's King childish pouting. "Didn't you know? Life isn't fair!"

"I thought you were strong," Unthok said in a disappointed tone "But you're not strong. You're cheating."

"And cheaters always win," Link said and charged at the Moblin King, aiming the Master Sword at his throat. To his surprise, Unthok did not try to dogde again; instead, his hand darted to his hip, drew the short dagger from his belt and raised it just in time to parry Link's attack. He immediately followed it up by pushing Link away from him with his other hand, almost sending him sprawling in the middle of the room. For a second, Link fought to maintain his balance while holding his shield protectively, then lunged forward to meet Unthok's next attack.

But the Moblin King was no longer attacking. He was running toward the door, dragging his injured leg behind him. Link might have been able to catch up to him, had he not been completely surprised by Unthok's sudden flight, and simply stared at his injured back as he vanished through the door, turning left into the corridor. All he could do was yell "Hey! Wait!" only to realize that this was a stupid thing to say.

"Nobody cheats against Unthok!" Link heard the Moblin King's voice echoing from afar, growing fainter as he spoke. "We meet again! I promise you!!"

_Yes, that's what they always say._

Finally having come to his senses, Link began to give pursuit, but found that Unthok was already out of sight, vanished in the labyrinthine hallways of the Spirit Temple, presumably on his way outside.

_With any luck, the Gerudo will intercept him at the entrance and put an end to him_, he thought. _Maybe I could catch him, but that would be a waste of time._ Still surprised at this sudden turn of events, he shook his head.

_Touching the Master Sword must have _really _hurt_.

Link allowed himself a one-minute-break to catch his breath and prepare himself for the next challenge, while closely watching the door in case Unthok changed his mind and returned (he did not). Then he climbed the ladder in the wall and pushed open the trap door, relieved that it was not locked. He was greeted by the cloudless desert sky, as well as several lances stabbing at him from above. He raised both hands above his head in a vain attempt to fend them off, and promptly fell off the ladder, followed by a painful landing on the hard stone floor – which was still preferable to being impaled, naturally.

_I'm an idiot_, he thought as he jumped to his feet, peering at the ceiling, seeing the large skeletal warriors poking their lances at him through the trap door. _Of course Malark isn't sitting up there undefended!_ He drew his sword and shield again, ready to face the Stalfos or their master should they jump down to fight him, but nothing of the sort happened. No angry voice acknowledged his intrusion, and nothing happened at all for at least a minute, although the presence of an enemy in the room below should by all rights make Malark at least a little nervous.

_Perhaps he isn't even up there?_

_Well, I'm not going to find out by staying in here._

_But I can't attack them from down here! My reach is too short, and they are too many!_

Link considered using Unthok's discarded spear, but ultimately, that would only have amounted to poking the air above him, since the Stalfos around the trap door would easily be able to evade him. On the other hand, climbing up without first dealing with them was guaranteed to get him skewered.

_Perhaps there's something in here that'll help me?_ he asked himself and began to check the contents of the broken crates, alternately casting nervous glances at the door and the opening in the ceiling. The crates contained many things, all of them quite useless: Heavy black robes that would have looked good on a Sheikah, a variety of small bones that must have belonged to desert animals, dried dates whose edibility was highly questionable, and several long ceremonial knives. There were even a number of barrels filled with sand, of all things, which made Link shake his head in amazement.

_Some sanctum this is. More like a place to store the Gerudos' junk._

Since neither the crates nor barrels had turned up anything useful, Link diverted his attention to the iron-bound wooden chests in the corner of the room. There were no keys around, so he simply carved them open with the Master Sword, finding several strange metal objects inside each of them. They were shaped like mice, painted blue and yellow, and had small wheels attached to them. Beset by curiosity, Link took one of them out of its chest, surprised at how heavy it was.

_What are these things? I doubt they're useful, but... ah, I think you can wind them up here, like a clock._

Link put one of the strange things on the floor, wound it up and let it go – and was surprised when he saw it zoom aways from him, rolling on its wheels, until it encountered a wall, then continued to somehow climb that wall until it hit the ceiling, where it promptly exploded with a deafening sound, showering Link in dust and mortar.

_What the hell? Walking bombs than can climb walls?_

_Who comes up with things like this? And, more importantly, who puts them here, of all places?_

Link decided that these were the kind of questions for which there probably were no answers and almost dismissed the wall-climbing bombs as dangerous playthings when he realized that they were exactly what he was looking for. Excited, he grabbed another, wound it up, and put it down right in front of the wall below the trap door. With a whirring sound, the thing began to move up the wall and through the opening in the ceiling. It exploded a second later, sending a shower of broken bones and spears through the trap door.

_Yes! It worked!_

_This was way too convenient, but what do I care?_

Using one hand to climb up the ladder while holding the Master Sword in the other, Link emerged on the top of the Desert Colossus, a surprisingly smooth rectangular surface without any features. The sun was standing high in the sky, burning down on Link, and the noise of the battle raging below was audible even at this height.

But Link only had eyes for the white-robed young man standing at the very centre of the flat rock surface, perhaps twenty feet away from Link, looking confused and angry as if he had just been violently roused from his sleep. It was Darion – or at least, Darion's body. Next to him, at shoulders' height, the Triforce was hovering in the air.

"And who the hell are you?" the man demanded. His voice, too, was that of Darion – but there was a subtle difference in there, an inflection that betrayed age and malice far beyond even that of the former crown prince. Link might not even have noticed it without hearing Garanth's tale, but there was no denying it now: This was not Darion.

"You are Malark," Link said and took up the Mirror Shield, raising its reflective surface before him.

"How do you know that? And how did you get here?" Not taking his eyes of Link, Malark moved sideways to the edge of the Desert Colossus, peered down, and promptly cursed.

"The Gerudo! These degenerate savages... I knew they would come back! I was a fool to spare them!" He glared at Link. "And you little brat... you ruined my ritual by waking me before it was done! Now I have to make all the preparations again." He smiled and raised his hands. "For that, I'll make your death very painful."

"Please, try," Link said mockingly and positioned himself exactly opposite to the wizard as he conjured a growing black sphere between his palms. _If this shield works as Astalor promised, this may be over with one shot._

"Will you simply stand there without attacking me?" Malark asked "Even though you know who I am? You're a fool." He let the black sphere fly toward Link, who bit his lips in nervous anticipation and moved the Mirror Shield several inches to block the magic missile. The sphere hit the reflective surface of the shield, and with a faint ringing sound was reflected, travelling back toward its caster at high speed. Malark's eyes widened in shock and surprise, staring at his own spell coming back to him like a frightened rabbit at a wolf.

_Phew, thank the Goddesses. I wasn't so sure about this..._

To Link's chagrin, Malark got a hold of himself at the last possible moment and threw himself out of the path of the black sphere that whizzed over his head and vanished into the desert sky.

_I guess it would have been too easy this way_, Link thought._ Fine, I'll kill him myself instead._

He dashed toward the fallen wizard, ready to move the Mirror Shield at a moment's notice, raising the Master Sword to strike him down. But Malark reacted far faster this time, jumped to his feet and drew the sword fastened to his belt – Darion's sword, Link realized, recognizing the blade as the one the prince had used in their duel in the throne room. When Link reached the wizard and struck at him with the Master Sword, he deftly parried the attack, trying to push him backwards, staring at him through crossed blades with equal hatred and surprise.

"Oh no, not like that," he hissed. "Not _again_! I still remember how it hurt the first time. That's a marvelous shield you have." He suddenly withdrew his sword, and Link almost stumbled forward from his own momentum, using the Master Sword to support himself while raising the Mirror Shield high. "Yes, show it to me," Malark said mockingly, not using the opportunity to attack and allowing Link to get up. "I guess I can't use my magic, then? No matter. Since Darion was nice enough to keep this sword arm strong, I'll just cut you down with this!" He raised his sword and attacked Link, who blocked with his shield, and his attack was every bit as strong as Darion's strikes back during their duel.

_But I won't lose this time_, he told himself as his body absorbed the force of the attack. _I may not have grown much stronger since then, but I'm not going to hold anything back! This is the final battle – after this, I can go home!_

"Who are you anyway?" Malark asked while trading blows with Link, continuing the ancient, time-honoured tradition of talking during life-and-death-battles. "You're not one of those desert rats."

"We've met once before," Link said, although part of him told him once again not to waste his breath. But there was always the possibility of distracting one's enemy, so he continued. "But you don't seem to remember me."

"There's a certain familiarity to your bland face," the wizard said and made a leap backwards to buy himself time for inspecting Link. The Triforce moved with him, and Link could see his own face mirrored in its polished surface.

_I see nothing bland about my face, thank you very much._

"Ah, yes, now I remember it... and your voice, too." Malark grinned and lunged forward, feigning an attack at Link's head, but instead slashed at his legs, leaving a shallow cut below Link's right knee. He bit his teeth and bore it, counting himself lucky that the wizard's aim had not been better.

"You're Arnu's lapdog," Malark exclaimed almost happily. "To think that she would send an assassin after me... I am honoured! Or did you come after Darion and only later learned about me? Not that it matters!"

"When did you take possession of him?" Link asked, ignoring the wizard's own question. It was something he really wanted to know, to learn whether or not Darion was truly at fault for any of the things he had done.

"I know what you're driving at," Malark said while swinging his sword over his head. "But it only happened after the destruction of Keeptown. Rest assured, your beloved prince was very much in control of his body until that moment, and only he is to blame for everything he did until then."

"Why should I believe you?" Link demanded.

"If you wouldn't believe me, then why did you ask?" Malark countered.

_Touché._

"And why should I be lying about this? It's not going to make you try and kill me less!"

_Yes, point taken. Please shut up._

"You Hylians are truly stupid," Malark mocked while brutally beating down on Link's shield, wielding his sword in both hands. Link's right arm felt like it was about to fall off, but he could not afford to abandon his shield, or the wizard would make short work of him with his spells.

"And you're cowards, on top of that," Malark continued when Link refused to be goaded by his taunting. "Sending in the Gerudo to distract Unthok and his ilk, using them as fodder to buy you time. They're good enough for that, eh?"

"They came here of their own free will," Link shouted, angry that the dark wizard was trying to paint _him_ as the villain. "And they would have attacked you even if I had not come here!"

"More reason to wipe them all out once I'm done with you!" Malark said furiously. "To punish them for betraying the Sheikah... again!"

"I won't allow that," Link stated, and almost bit his tongue when the impact of another blow made his body tremble. "I'm through talking with you," he added, angry at himself for talking to Malark in the first place.

"Suit yourself," the wizard said and continued to attack.

_Why am I on the defence, anyway? _Link asked himself after parrying the next blow with the Master Sword in order to give his shield arm a short reprieve._ I have to take the initiative if I want to win this!_ With an angry cry, he pushed Malark's sword back and immediately followed up on this with a flurry of quick strikes aimed at the wizard's mid-section. Malark parried them all, but his movements were slow and almost clumsy, and a scowl appeared on his brow.

_He's got all of Darion's strength_, Link realized, remembering how Malark had missed his chance to cripple his leg earlier, _but none of his technique!_

It was not as big an advantage as he could have hoped for, since Darion's fighting style had been heavily dependant on his enormous strength anyway, but it _was_ an advantage, and Link was going to exploit it. He began moving around more, using feints and cheap tricks to misdirect the wizard's sword, often followed immediately by a rapid succession of fast thrusts or strikes. Not only did this way of fighting put less of a strain on his shield arm, it also served to unsettle Malark, who found less and less opportunities to bring his superior strength to bear.

_I can win this!_ Link rejoiced, even though the merciless rays of the desert sun were burning down on him, unfettered by any comforting shadow on the flat top of the monolith. To make things worse, the desert wind kept dragging and pulling at him, far stronger at this height than on the ground. But Malark, too, was suffering from the harsh climate, which was all the comfort Link needed. At one time, when their battle had brought them close to the edge of the Desert Colossus, a sudden gust of wind had almost sent the wizard down to his death, but he had been saved by the Triforce hovering at his right side, momentarily holding on to it before regaining his balance.

_That thing is annoying_, Link thought. He had scraped it with the Master Sword several times, leaving not so much as a scratch behind. _Can't it just stay put?_

"Are you coveting my Triforce?" Malark asked, having noticed Link's frustrated glance at the golden triangles. "It's almost more trouble than it's worth – almost!" He chuckled, regaining the initiative for a moment when Link's foot was caught in one of the few bumps in the flat rock surface they were fighting on. "But once I've harnessed its power, your kind will bow before me and grovel in fear!"

"So you can't even use it?" Link decided to expend his breath for another try at distracting his enemy. "You must be pretty pathetic, then. I mean, it even obeyed Darion!"

"Do not compare me to that imbecile!" Malark hissed and leapt in the air, kicking at Link's face. "Even now, he's curled up like a toddler, too busy with pitying himself to notice what's going on around him! I've never met a creature as pathetic as him!"

_So part of Darion is still inside his body? Maybe I can-_

"Ha, you simpleton!" Malark laughed while fending off Link's continued attacks. "Your foolish hope is written all over your face! But there's no way to coax him into coming back, except... but I won't let it come to that!"

_So there is a way!_

_I only need one second – one second of struggle between you two, one second of you being distracted!_

"Darion!" Link exclaimed. "Can you hear me?"

"It's useless!" Malark shouted. "Even if you got him to come out, do you think he'd be on your side? He'd use the Triforce to blow you to dust, like he did with the people of his precious town!"

_The Master Sword will protect me against that – hopefully. And I only need one second..._

"Darion!" Link shouted again. "Why aren't you struggling against him? Why are you allowing him to use you?"

"Shut up!" Malark snapped. "It's useless!"

_Then why do you sound so afraid all of a sudden?_

"Darion, please!" Link continued to plead without easing off with his attacks. "If you want to make amends for what you've done, then fight off his control!"

"Ah, what a marvel you are, boy!" Malark said, the fear in his voice suddenly vanished. "Your words are actually reaching him!" A malicious grin came over his face. "But they're having the opposite effect. I can feel his consciousness burying itself even deeper, trying to hide from you!" He was almost squealing with glee, sounding absolutely truthful. "Keep it up a little longer and he'll die from shame!"

_Well, isn't that just great_, Link thought. _Darion is utterly useless._

He must have scowled or otherwise shown his disappointment, because Malark suddenly burst out in laughing, almost failing to parry one of Link's blows. "Ah, you can't imagine how soothing it is, to see somebody other than myself frustrated by Darion's cowardice!" He paused, dodging an overhead blow that he could not have parried fast enough. "Although I have benefited from it, too, most recently. But that doesn't even begin to compensate for the amount of whining he put me through!"

"I'm glad you two had fun with each other," Link mocked, idly wondering about the inner dynamics between the wizard and his host.

"It wasn't fun in the least, I assure you. But I'll be rid of him soon enough, have no fear – though you have delayed that long-awaited moment! For that alone, you deserve to die!"

"I think I get it now," Link said. "You're trying to remove Darion from your mind, in the hope that the Triforce will obey you after that."

"You're a smart boy," Malark said, confirming Link's theory. "But what good will that knowledge do you, hm?"

"It means that there's nothing more I need to learn from you," Link replied, lacing his voice with arrogance to provoke the wizard. "I can finish you now."

"That will be the day," Malark growled. "The only reason you're still alive is because of that gimmick shield!"

With a smirk, Link remembered that Unthok had directed a similar complaint at the Master Sword. _What do these people expect? _he thought. _That I won't use every available means to defeat them?_

"You're a sore loser," Link said in his smuggest voice, punctuating his gloating by a low swipe at Malark's feet, designed to throw the wizard off balance. Malark leapt backwards, letting go of his sword with one hand to keep his balance by waving both arms around.

_This is it! _

Link lunged forward, raising the Master Sword, and brought it down on Malark's right arm with all his strength, severing his hand at the wrist. The wizard screamed in shock and pain and staggered to his left, barely managing to remain standing. His sword and the hand that had held it fell to the ground, and Link seized the blade and threw it backwards over his shoulder, where it hit the rock with a clattering noise.

_It's almost over now_, Link thought, but allowed himself not a second of rest – not yet. He stepped toward the wizard, still holding the Mirror Shield in front of his chest in case he tried some spell of last resort, but Malark was merely staring at the stump where his hand had been, cauterized by the evil-repelling magic of the Master Sword.

_Time to finish this_, Link thought, surprised at his own calm. Should he not be rejoicing that his quest was successful?

_Not yet!_ he cautioned himself. _He's not dead yet! I have to stop beating around the bush and do it!_ He walked up to Malark and put the Master Sword against his chest, its tip mere inches removed from the wizard's white robe. Gasping in pain, Malark stared at him, and Link could almost see the gears turning behind his calculating eyes, looking desperately for a way to save his life. But whether out of pride or resignation, the wizard did not plead with him, and his eyes suddenly turned inward, as if he had given up all hope.

"There's no way to separate your guilt from Darion's", Link spoke, somehow feeling compelled to announce some kind of verdict before playing the executioner. "Therefore, you'll die along with him." Even if every one of Darion's atrocities had been his own doing, Malark, too, was deserving of death – at the bare minimum, he had been responsible for the deaths and ghastly reanimations of the Gerudo at the fortress, as well as the deaths of their brothers below.

With the sounds of their clashing blades gone and Malark's screams reduced to a barely audible whimpering, Link realized that the sounds of battle below had ceased. Hesitating for a second, he wondered when that had happened, and who had won – was Unthok on his way up here with his minions, eager for revenge against the 'cheating' Hylian? Would the top of the Desert Colossus become a death trap for him?

_One more reason to finish this now_, Link thought grimly, withdrew the Master Sword several inches to gain some momentum, and thrust it into the wizard's chest. He hoped to pierce his heart and kill him quickly, without unnecessary suffering – and unnecessary risk to himself. Malark reeled backwards, gasping and groaning in pain, and fell his on back when Link yanked the blade out of his body. The Triforce promptly lowered itself, faithful in its attendance to the last, and surely a mockery to the man whom it had refused to obey until the end.

"You think you... defeated me," Malark said, his voice a mere rasping, his hateful eyes glaring at his killer. "But... I have a trump card!" Alarmed, Link made sure that the Mirror Shield was still covering his chest, and prepared himself to raise it to defend his head, but Malark was casting no spell, did nothing to follow up on his threat. All he did was cough up blood, further soiling his already bloodied and torn robe, and contorted his face in a grimace of pain and hatred.

_It's an empty threat_, Link realized with relief. _There's nothing he can do. He's dying._

"Do... it..." Malark suddenly whispered. "Or we will both... die!"

_Who's he talking to? It couldn't be?_

A sudden shiver came over Malark's body, and his head jerked to the right, followed by his left arm that reached across his chest and touched the Triforce. His mouth opened, and he spoke with the same voice as before, but a much more desperate, much more agonized tone.

"Heal me!" he whispered.

_He's trying to command the Triforce?_ Link wondered. _What makes him think it'll obey him now, of all times?_ Nonetheless, he felt himself become tense, perhaps because Malark's voice suddenly sounded... different.

_What if it works after all? _Link raised the Master Sword, ready to strike again in case Malark would be miraculously healed. But his fear was unfounded. The Triforce did not obey. Nothing happened to Malark, and the gaping chest wound continued to bleed.

"Heal me!" he demanded again, with the urgency of a man who had scant seconds left to live. "Do it! Obey!"

Still, nothing happened.

"Why don't you do as I say?" the desperate voice demanded, and Link finally realized what was going on.

"Darion!" he exclaimed. "It's you, isn't it?"

There was no time to wait for an answer. Link raised his right foot and brought it down hard on Darion's remaining hand, placing his full weight on it so that he could not touch the Triforce again.

"What's going on here?" There was nothing of Malark's arrogance in that voice; only terror and confusion. "Why isn't it working?" The dying man stared at Link, his brown eyes pleading with him, all of Malark's hatred gone and replaced with mortal fear. There was no doubt about it: This was Darion.

"You're dying," Link said softly, unable to recall the hate and disgust he had once felt for the man, unable to gloat at him in his last moments. "It's over."

"No, no, no!" the prince stammered, either not recognizing Link or too beside himself to show it. "The Triforce promised... it would obey me... for as long as I lived!"

"It would obey you," Link said, "but it cannot." He held the Master Sword before Darion's eyes, having only now realized why the prince had not been healed.

"This sword was made to negate the power of the gods," he explained, "and the Triforce cannot heal the wounds inflicted by it. Had you wished for something else, it would surely have worked." He glanced at his boot that held down Darion's remaining hand. "But now..." He shrugged.

_Why am I even explaining this to him? He's dying. Judging from how long it's taking him, I missed his heart, but still... the end is the same._

Unbidden (and most certainly unwanted), Link recalled the deaths of his parents, separated only by a few hours. Both of them had begged for their son to stay with them during their passing, deathly afraid of dying alone, and Link had, of course, obliged, and given them what little comfort he had been able to give.

_Is this why I'm talking to him? To ease his passing? _

_Does he even deserve that?_

"Darion," Link said, "if there's something you want me to tell people back in Hyrule, then say it now."

_What am I expecting him to say? 'I'm sorry?' That wouldn't quite cut it, now would it?_

Darion blinked several times, and his eyes met Link's for the first time after regaining control over his body. His gaze remained steady, and his eyes lit up with recognition.

"Link! It's you!"

Link nodded silently.

"I... I don't want to die!"

"You are dying," Link said, and his voice brooked no objection. "And for good reasons, too," he added, trying not to sound too vengeful.

Darion choked, then nodded. Suddenly, without warning, a wellspring of tears erupted from his eyes, and he spoke with a hoarse, sobbing voice:

"I'm such a fool. I did all these... terrible things, because I was afraid to fail as a king. Because I thought... I needed more power. Because..." Darion paused and contorted his face in disgust.

"Just listen to me, Link," he whispered. "Making excuses at this time? I'm pathetic."

Link opened his mouth in reply, although he had no idea what to say. _I can't very well tell him it's all right, can I?_

"And even after realizing what I did... I still helped Malark! I killed that poor man because I was afraid to die!"

Link had no idea who Darion was referring to. "At least you regret it now," he said. "That's something, isn't it?"

"Regret it?" Darion sniffed. "Why, because I'm crying?" A hoarse, bitter laugh erupted from his throat. "It's nothing so noble. I'm crying... for myself... because I'm dying." He grinned like a man who had just told a distasteful joke and did not expect people to laugh. "I'm revolting, am I not?"

"Nobody wants to die," Link answered. That much he could say in good conscience.

"I'm worthless," Darion whispered. "I'm a murderer... and worse." He closed his eyes and laid his head to his left side, away from the Triforce. "Someone like me... should just... die."

Darion said nothing more following that, and soon after, his chest stopped moving up and down. Link removed his foot from the prince's hand and allowed his muscles to relax. Darion was gone.

_In the end, he loathed himself just as much as everybody else did. I'm not sure that helped anything... ah, no matter now. It's over._

Once again, silence fell over the Desert Colossus, and Link remembered that he was not the only one who had been fighting. He walked to the ledge of the monolith and looked down. Among the hundreds of nameless dead, there were both Gerudo and Moblins in roughly equal number. Among the survivors, however, who walked across the battlefield in search of wounded comrades, there were only Gerudo.

_They won_, Link thought, overcome with relief. _No, we won_, he corrected himself. _Each of us fighting our own battle._

Some of the warriors below noticed Link and called out to him. In response, he raised the bloodied Master Sword above his head, and the victorious Gerudo cheered at him, their voices weak and exhausted, but proud of themselves and their ally.

Looking into the distance, Link saw a group of dark shapes moving swiftly to the east; no doubt the defeated remnants of the Moblin army. They were being hounded by a band of Gerudo warriors who must have been ordered to drive them out of the desert without giving them an opportunity to attack the civilians hiding in the fortress. Satisfied that all the loose ends were being tied up, Link nodded to himself and said out loud: "It's over."

"Oh no, not yet!"

Link's blood turned cold when he heard the familiar rasping voice from somewhere behind him. For a second, he could do nothing, not even turn around, frozen in shock and horror. When he finally did turn around, he saw Darion, his knees shaking, his chest wound still bleeding, but standing on his feet all the same. And the Triforce had risen with him, hovering at shoulder's height next to him, its master basking in its golden light.

"But... you're dead!" Link exclaimed.

"Darion fled the stage in shame before the final curtain fell," the man said, and the contempt in his voice made it perfectly clear just who he was. "And you, boy... you went to bask in the ovations of the audience, fancying yourself the main character. Both of you... young, impatient fools!"

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Link stuttered.

"You thought you saw this body die? Think again! It was only Darion's soul that died, eager to let oblivion swallow him and his guilt. Good riddance, I say. Now, I am finally and solely in control of this body – thanks to you!" Malark threw back his head and laughed, heedless of the blood that streamed out of his mouth. "Allow me to express my gratitude." The wizard pressed his remaining hand against the Triforce. "Kill him!" he commanded.

_Oh no, you won't_, Link thought and raised the Master Sword into the air. As soon as Malark had spoken, a beam of golden light shot out from the tip of the Triforce toward Link, its dazzling radiance heralding certain death. But like a lighting bolt drawn to a rod of iron, the beam was drawn to the tip of the Master Sword, its deadly power absorbed by the gleaming blade. The beam lasted for several seconds, then ceased, and Link, who had held his breath during its duration, allowed himself to exhale.

_I already knew from Darion's wish that the sword worked_, he told himself. _But surviving a killing wish... the Goddesses did not promise too much._

"What's going on?" Malark shouted, near hysterical. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Because you were right," Link said. "The final curtain has yet to fall. I still have a part to play."

"Don't get smart with me!" Malark shrieked and backed off as Link approached him. "Where did you get this sword from?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Link replied. "Now let's end this tragic play." Unwilling to give Malark yet another chance to escape his fate, he dashed toward the wizard, determined to finish what he had started.

"Hey! Wait! Stay away!" Malark shrieked, but Link did not stop, crossing the distance between himself and the wizard with a few swift leaps. Malark stared at him as he approached, his mind visibly racing, his body trembling. Then, when Link was almost upon him, his gaping mouth turned into a smile as he slammed his hand against the Triforce and shouted one word.

"Up!"

Like a man-sized puppet dancing on invisible strings, the mortally wounded wizard was pulled straight into the air, and the Triforce followed. He came to a stop fifteen or twenty feet above Link, far outside his reach, even if he had thrown the Master Sword.

_You can't be serious! He got away again!_

But the steady stream of blood that came raining down on Link's face, forcing him a few steps back, eased his worries.

"This doesn't change a thing!" he shouted. "The body that you stole is still dying, and the Triforce can't heal it!"

"But I have healing magic of my own!" Malark shouted back from above and touched his chest wound, then moved the fingers of his left hand in a peculiar fashion. A slight green glow appeared around the wound, and Link held his breath, fearing what would happen if the wizard managed to save his life. The Master Sword would indubitably continue to protect him, but what about the rest of Hyrule?

_Can't I use the Mirror Shield? No, it's not like he's directing his spell at me. Damn it! If only I had a way to reach him!_

The green shine vanished from Malark's chest, and the flow of blood raining down decreased, though it did not cease entirely. Link narrowed his eyes to see Malark's facial expression, and found that the wizard was staring at his still bleeding wound in frustration and disbelief.

"It's not working!" he said to himself, barely audible to Link at his height. "I slowed down the blood flow, but the wound is too deep! My spell isn't strong enough!" He looked down at Link, his voice trembling with fury. "Damn you! I... I'm dying!"

"So in the end, you're not going to outlive Darion by much, eh?" Link asked.

"Don't compare me to that weakling!" Malark snarled, his voice growing louder, whether by magic or sheer effort. "He met his end crying and whining like a child! But I am Malark! I fear nothing, not even death!"

"That's a relief," Link said dryly. "That means I don't have to feel bad about having killed you."

"Do not dare to mock me! That healing spell still bought me a few minutes! And I will use them to drag you down with me to the grave!"

"And how will you do that?" Link asked, raising both the Master Sword and the Mirror Shield. "You have all this power at your fingertips: Your own magic and that of the gods, and yet there is absolutely nothing you can do to me!"

Malark howled in frustration and unleashed a barrage of fireballs at Link, but the Mirror Shield dutifully reflected them all, sending them into the desert sky. Then he once again commanded the Triforce to slay Link, this time specifying the method of death as suffocation, but the Master Sword's gleam turned into a protective golden aura around Link, and there was no effect at all.

"This is insufferable!" Malark cried out after realizing the futility of his efforts. "Am I to be denied even my revenge?"

"Revenge is no good to anybody," Link replied. "Even if you killed me now, what difference would it make?"

"It would make me feel a whole lot better about dying!" Malark screamed.

_Well, I suppose there's that, yes._

"Revenge is no good," Link repeated. "Accept your fate with some dignity! Even Darion did that!"

"I told you, stop comparing me to that whining brat!"

Link was just about to give up on the dying wizard and tell him to go to hell (which would have been somewhat redundant, since that was where he was headed anyway) when a familiar voice suddenly called out to him from his far right.

"Link! What's going on here?"

Both Link and Malark threw their heads around, and Link's eyes widened with shock when he saw that, unnoticed by both himself and the wizard, a dozen Gerudo warriors had reached the top of the Desert Colossus throught the open trap door, no doubt utterly stupefied by the strange exchange between their Hylian ally and their airborne enemy. All of them looked weary and exhausted, and many of them were bleeding from light wounds; it appeared that they had followed Link as soon as the Moblins had been forced to withdraw. Garanth was among them, too – he was the one who had spoken just now – while his brother was nowhere to be seen. Even the twin sisters Koume and Kotake were now climbing out of the trap door, joining their male comrades and talking to each other in hushed whispers.

"No!" Link shouted when he realized what the presence of the Gerudo would mean for them. "You shouldn't have come here! You have to flee!"

But before any of the desert dwellers had a chance to consider Link's request, Malark's ragged voice sounded from above:

"You will stay right here!"

Appalled, Link looked upward, and saw that the wizard's hand was still resting on the Triforce. At the same instant, shimmering golden twines grew out of the rock, coiling themselves around the feet of the shocked Gerudo before they could react. Crying out in anger and fear, they tried to cut their bindings with their sabres, but they could not put as much as a dent in them.

_The Master Sword! _Link thought and moved toward the Gerudo, slowed by the necessity of keeping the Mirror Shield raised toward the wizard. Not that Malark seemed to care much about him now: He was raising his arms like a priest welcoming his congregation, cackling madly while the pool of blood below him grew larger and larger.

"Thank you so much for joining us!" he shouted. "For reminding me that there are others deserving of my revenge! Oh, how deserving you are!" He began to laugh again, his voice sounding more and more like that of the old Sheikah he had once been.

"I'm sorry!" Link gasped when he reached Garanth and his warriors. "I didn't finish him off!" He knelt down and put the Master Sword against the golden twines binding his feet. "But I think I can free you!"

"Free the others before me," the Gerudo King told Link without taking his eyes off of Malark. "The women first!" Link ignored him and began sawing at his bounds, relieved to see that the Master Sword was able to cut the chains of the Triforce.

"Didn't you listen?" Garanth shouted at Link, seizing his head with both heads and turning it around to face him. "The women first! Then the men! Then me!"

"Sheesh, fine," Link said, got up and moved over to Koume and Kotake, who greeted him with worried looks. "Hold still so I don't hurt you," he told them and began to cut their bounds.

"What's happening?" Koume asked.

"Why isn't he dead?" her sister added.

"It's complicated," Link said and severed the last of the twines around Koume's feet, inadvertently cutting her ankles. "Now run!"

"Free Kotake first!" she insisted.

"Damn it," Link muttered and began cutting the second twins' bounds. "You people all too selfless for your own good."

"You're calling us selfless?" Kotake chuckled in spite of the situation. "That's a first!"

"There, it's done!" Link said and moved on to the closest male warrior. "Now flee, or-"

"What are you doing?" Malark's laughter abruptly ceased. "Do you think you're some kind of hero?"

_Damn it, he noticed me!_ Link thought. He tried to cut faster, but it was slow work, and he could only use one hand since he still had to prop up the Mirror Shield with the other.

"You want to free them?" the wizard asked gleefully. "Let's see if you can fly!" He pointed his stump at the Gerudo warriors while his hand remained on the Triforce. "Up with you, you bastards!"

Before Link's eyes, the remaining twines around the Gerudos' feet loosened. Before they could react, the men were raised straight up into the air to the same height as Malark, where they dangled helplessly like puppets on invisible strings, cursing their malefactor, but unable to do anything. Only Koume and Kotake remained aground – perhaps because they did not qualify as 'bastards', Link thought. "Run!" he told them again, but the twins did not move, staring up at their tribesmen with fearful anticipation.

"Hey! Malark! Look at me! I am your enemey!" Link shouted and waved the Master Sword back and forth in an attempt to draw Malark's attention until he succumbed to his wound, but it was no good: The dying wizard had only eyes for the airborne Gerudo now, completely ignoring Link's taunts as well as everything else below him.

"You traitorous rats!" he screeched. "You ruined everything! How dare you betray the Sheikah a second time?"

"You have no one to blame but yourself" Garanth said, speaking with a dignity that belied his helpless state. "You went down this dark path of your own accord, and there's nothing-"

"Shut up, you arrogant cur!" Malark's face was burning red with anger, in spite of the blood that he had lost and was still losing. "You and your self-righteous ilk... You cannot even imagine the horrors I will visit upon you!"

"Do your worst," Garanth said defiantly, and Link could not help but admire his fearlessness in the face of painful death. "We'll face our fate like men."

"Like _men_, eh? Hah!" Malark pounded the Triforce with his fist and raised his voice. "So be it! Every single man of your pathetic tribe shall be ground to dust by the wind! Last of all you, so you can watch in horror as their flesh is ripped from their bones!"

"No!" Link screamed and raised the Master Sword as high as he could, hoping to somehow extened its protection around the Gerudo, but it was no use. The howling of the wind increased tenfold, and a terrible gale enveloped the Gerudo warriors, tearing off their skin and eating away at their flesh. Garanth was the only one yet unaffected, and he watched in abject terror as his tribesmen were torn apart around him, screaming in agony as the wind of death consumed them.

Their terrible cries were echoed from below the Desert Colossus, and Link did not have to look down to know that the other Gerudo warriors were suffering the same fate. 'Every single man' – those had been Malark's words, and the Triforce obeyed them with its usual, terrible precision.

"Stop it!" Koume cried out next to Link. Her face was overflowing with tears, and she screamed at the top of her lungs to make herself heard over the howling of the wind. "Please, stop it! Stop it!" Kotake, too, was screaming, wishing death and worse upon Malark. Then she turned toward Link, her eyes accusing him. "Do something!" she yelled.

"There's nothing I can do!" he shouted back, noticing that his voice was shaking. His only option consisted of throwing the Master Sword at Malark, but the powerful gusts of wind would only blow it away, off the Desert Colossus, and leave Link helpless against the wizard's terrible vengeance. Once again, good people were being killed around him, and he could not do the least thing to prevent it. The overwhelming feelings of helplessness and uselessness were only too familiar by now, but that did not make them any easier to bear.

"The worst of your horrors are not enough to break the spirits of the Gerudo!" Garanth shouted at Malark. The screams of his companions had ceased, their bodies reduced to skeletons, but the wind continued to blow, eating away the last shreds of flesh before grinding down their bones. "And there will be other men to take our places!"

"Oh no, there won't be!" Malark yelled, his voice suddenly loud as a thunderstorm, every word a drumbeat of an insane god. "Behold! With the power of the Triforce at my command, and all the demons of hell as my witnesses, I curse you! Never again shall a single male child be born to your pathetic race! Your women will have to fling themselves at the filthy Hylians to preserve your kind!"

When Malark had spoken his curse, the bodies of the Gerudo warriors had been reduced to dust, and now their king was being ravaged by the wind of death in accordance to the wizard's command. But even as the flesh was ripped from his body, he refused to submit.

"Even so, the Gerudo will have a future!" he shouted in agony. "As long as some of us are alive, there is hope!"

"There you go again!" Malark screeched. "Hope! Hope! HOPE! I hate that word!" His chest wound was now bleeding worse than ever, but his hunger for vengeance did not permit him to die yet.

"Very well, then," he continued after a short pause, shouting in Garanth's face that was now little more than a skull with a few shreds of flesh attached. "I shall give you hope! To prove to you that hope is nothing more than a chimera, I shall grant you the birth of a lone male boy once in a hundred years!" His eyes were lighting up, as if he took pleasure in coming up with the most ridiculous additions to his curse. "That boy shall become your king, so that all the women of your tribe place their hopes in him, and be disappointed! He shall try to lead them out of this desert, and fail miserably – century after century, bringing them nothing but crushing despair!" He threw back his head and cackled madly. "How is THAT for hope?"

But the Gerudo King was gone, his body ground to dust, the last remains of his bones blown away by the wind that only now abated. Of the Gerudo who had joined Link atop the Desert Colossus, only the twins remained, spared from the fate of their tribesmen by the sole virtue of being female. Koume had sunk to her knees, her face buried in her palms, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably, while Kotake stared blandly at the empty space in front of her, not a single tear on her face, her body motionless as if it had been frozen over. Link made a few steps toward them, but stopped when he realized that he could offer them no words of comfort.

_They'll never be able to forget what they just saw_, he thought.

Unable to look at the devastated sisters for long, Link returned his gaze to Malark, who was still laughing, completely oblivious to his surroundings and so drunk with vengeance that he could not have made another wish on the Triforce even if he had wanted to. Unable to do anything to hasten the wizard's overdue death, Link simply stared at Malark with unblinking eyes, listening in disgust as his laughter slowly became weaker and finally died down completely. His body went limp and dropped out of the air, slamming on the flat rock surface, lying in a pool of its own blood.

_I'll make sure you're dead this time_, Link thought wearily and walked over to the body that had once belonged to Darion. The pale face was contorted in a grimace of pure malice, which unsettled Link so much that he grabbed the corpse and rolled it on its waist. Then he took up the Master Sword and began sawing the head off, determined not to take even the slightest chance that the wizard was somehow still alive.

When Link had completed his bloody work, he looked upwards, and saw that the Triforce had begun a slow descent, spinning around its own axis as it approached him. Link waited silently, the Master Sword in hand, until the golden triangles came to a stop at shoulder's height above the corpse of its former master.

_Just one touch, one wish, and they could all come back to life_, Link thought, tempted by the power of the gods like anyone would be. Then he recalled Arnu's warning that any attempt to use the Triforce might make it split apart again and withdrew his half-raised hand with a shudder. He sheathed the Master Sword, fastened the Mirror Shield on his back and seized the Triforce with both hands.

_I'll take it back to Hyrule as promised_, he thought. _Let the sages deal with this thing._

"I am the Essence of the Triforce," an ethereal voice said. "You who would make a wish-"

"Shut up," Link blurted out. "I'm not wishing anything. I'm just going to carry you."

"Very well," the voice replied, and fell silent.

_You_ s_ee, Darion? _Link thought and glanced at the corpse of the prince as he shouldered the Triforce, surprised how light it was._ Resisting temptation is that easy!_

"You're not taking it anywhere," a voice said behind him. "Turn around, slowly."

_Oh come on, this isn't funny_, Link thought, but turned around as he had been told. Koume was standing in front of him, her tears run dry, her eyes burning with hatred. Next to her stood Kotake, her face an expressionless mask, looking at him with hard, cold eyes. Each of the sisters was pointing a bloodied sabre at Link's chest.

_Great, just great_, Link thought, staring back at the Gerudo twins, struck speechless by their sudden change of heart. _What now?_


	42. Wretched of the Earth

**Chapter 42: Wretched of the Earth**

"Put the Triforce down and walk away," Koume said. "Don't try to wish for anything, or..." She nudged her sabre an inch toward the Hylian's chest, her hands shaking with unbridled fury. The screams of the other Gerudo were still fresh in her mind, the sight of their ghastly deaths burnt forever in her memory, and it took all her concentration not to break down sobbing again. Focusing on her anger and hatred helped push back the images, if only temporarily, and so Koume eagerly embraced the hatred, allowing it to drown out her crushing despair.

"Now, look," Link said without doing as he had been told, his voice slow and gentle as though he was talking to a child – or a madwoman. "I can understand your pain, but I'm not your enemy. Put down your weapons, please!"

"Be silent," Kotake said coldly, seemingly speaking without moving her lips. "We acknowledge that you have helped us in the past, which is the only reason you're still alive. Now put it down and leave!"

"What would you do with the Triforce?" Link asked cautiously, still not obeying. His recalcitrance infuriated Koume even more, and she moved up her sabre to the young man's throat.

"That's none of your damn business!" she hissed. "But take a guess!"

"Bring back the men who just died?" Link suggested. "Nullify the curse? Perhaps even transform the desert into fertile land?" He shook his head. "I can see why you would want that, but-"

"BUT?" Koume shouted. "What do you mean, 'but'? Are you saying we don't have the right?"

"It's not a question of right," Link said, his voice still carefully measured in a way that only made Koume more angry. "The Triforce isn't so easily controlled!"

"Shut up," Koume growled, "we saw how easy it was just now!"

"Look, I explained it to you yesterday, didn't I? How there's a chance of the Triforce splitting in three pieces when you make your first wish?"

"That's a flimsy lie!"

"Then how do you think it got split in the first place?" Link asked almost defiantly.

"What does it matter to us?" Kotake asked. "If splitting the Triforce is necessary before you can use it, then we'll split it, and collect the pieces again."

"But at what cost?" Link asked, and Koume noted with satisfaction that he was sweating profusely. "Would you kill innocent people to get the pieces, like Darion did?"

"Why not?" Koume was amazed that she had not killed Link yet, but still held off for some reason. "It's not like anybody else cares about that! Garanth always tried to do the right thing, and you saw where it got him!"

"If you're the only one who plays fair, you will be destroyed by the ones who don't," Kotake said flatly. "I'd slay a thousand innocents before I allowed myself to be butchered like Garanth and the men!"

"You don't mean that!" Link said, his voice pleading, as if he was trying to convince himself. "You still haven't recovered from the shock! You-"

"Don't talk to us like we're not in our right minds!" Koume yelled, and she knew that she was mere seconds from slitting Link's throat. Rather than that, she kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The young Hylian writhed in pain, but did not double over. Koume found that his pain gave her some fleeting pleasure, but no real satisfaction. _Perhaps it just wasn't enough_, she thought, and kicked him again.

"Why... are you mad at me... anyway?" Link gasped between heavy breaths, still hiding the Triforce behind his back. "It's not like I did anything bad!"

"How about trying to steal the Triforce from us?" Kotake asked. "You just want it for yourself, admit it!"

"Didn't you listen just now?" Link asked indignantly, his mask of friendliness crumbling. "I said I wasn't going to make a wish!"

"So where would you take it, then?" Kotake's spoke as if she was entirely unconcerned by the ongoings, but the sabre pointed at Link's chest and the cold hatred in her eyes spoke a different language.

"Back to Hyrule," Link admitted, and Koume promptly burst out laughing.

"So that was your motive all along, wasn't it?" she barked. "Make sure that the desert rats don't get any power! Take the Triforce back so you Hylians can continue to oppress us!" She spat in Link's face. "And there I thought you were different! But you Hylian scum are all the same!" She shook her head and glanced at Kotake. "I'm sorry, sister. I should have believed you from the beginning."

"No!" Link exclaimed. "The Hylians don't have to be your enemies! When I return, I'll tell them all about your sacrifices, and how you helped me! I'm sure they'll start treating you better!"

"We don't care about your sympathy!" Koume yelled. "And we're not going to rely on anybody's good will ever again!"

"Exactly," Kotake added. "The gratitude of the Hylians would be short-lived, but the power of the Triforce is eternal."

"You misunderstand!" Link said, his voice increasingly pleading. Koume liked that tone, but she did not like that he was still talking back to them. "The Hylians aren't going to keep the Triforce for themselves anymore! The sages said that all races of Hyrule should determine how it's used! That would include the Gerudo, too!"

"You're lying!" Koume spat. "You'd tell us anything as long as we'd let you leave!"

"Then how about a compromise," Link suggested. "The Triforce stays here for now, and myself and one of you keep watch over it, while the other travels to Hyrule, carrying a letter to the sages. I'll ask them to come here, and bring representatives of the other races, so you can come to an agreement!"

"So you can just overrule us by majority vote? How stupid do you think we are?" Kotake asked. Link wanted to contradict her, but Koume kicked him between the legs for a third time.

"Get with the program, elf boy," she said between her teeth. "We – are – not – sharing!"

Once again, Link writhed in pain and lowered his head. When he raised it again, his blue eyes were filled with sorrowful determination. "I don't want to be your enemy," he said. "But I don't have to take your abuse, either."

"Then leave while you still can," Koume demanded.

"Fine," Link sighed and let go of the Triforce, raising his empty palms before him. The golden triangles did not fall to the ground, but simply continued to float in the air as they had always done. Link stepped aside with a resigned look, no longer obstructing the Triforce that was now almost within an arm's reach of Koume. Kotake moved parallel to him, her sabre still pointed at his chest, and said without looking at Koume: "You do it."

"All right," Koume said and made a single step forward, lowering her sabre and putting her left palm against the Triforce. It was completely smooth, but slightly warm to the touch, which surprised her, given that it was made from some kind of metal. "Hey, Kotake," she said almost giddily, her despair and hate suddenly dispelled, "what should I wish for first?" She turned her head toward her sister, giving her a sheepish grin – and that grin froze on her face when she saw Link grabbing Kotake's sabre by its edge, pulling her toward him and slamming his head into her face, sending her sprawling backwards to the ground.

"You bastard!" she yelled, her rage and hatred returning as quickly as they had left. She turned toward the Triforce, ready to wish death upon Link for his betrayal. Then she remembered Malark's futile attempts to do the same, frustrated by the power of Link's magic sword, and raised her sabre to kill him the old-fashioned way. But her second of hesitation had already been too long: Link was upon her and seized her right arm with his bleeding hands, twisting it around until she screamed and dropped her weapon.

"Damn you!" Koume hissed, and her left arm moved toward the hilt of her second sabre. "You're not going to get away-"

But Koume did not reach the hilt, because Link seized her left arm, too, and violently jerked her toward him. Before she could so much as struggle against his hold, he slammed his head into her face, and Koume's head exploded in a short burst of pain that instantly gave way to blackness.

* * *

When Koume woke up, she was disoriented at first, in part because of the dull pain in her head, in part because she was covered with a blanket and could not see anything even after opening her eyes. Then the memories returned to her, and she rose abruptly, tearing the blanket off her body. The sudden movement made the pain much worse, and her sight faded for a moment, forcing her on her knees until the worst had passed and she could see again.

_Where is that bastard? I'll rip him to pieces!_

A quick inspection of her environment told Koume that she was still on top of the Desert Colossus, but there was no sign of the filthy Hylian who had betrayed them, nor of the Triforce. _Of course not_, she thought. _That coward took it and run!_

"Ugh," Koume heard her sister groan close by and, forgetting all about Link and his loathsome ilk for the moment, rushed to Kotake's side. She, too, was covered with a thin, white blanket, but Kotake tore it away and shook her sister by the shoulders.

"Kotake, are you all right? Talk to me!"

Kotake groaned again, then opened her eyes and blinked, recognizing her sister immediately. Most of her face was covered with dried blood, but her eyes were clear, and her gaze focused.

"I... I think so," she said. "My head hurts, but..." She blinked again and looked over Koume's face. "You don't look so good."

"I guess so," Koume replied and touched her face with her fingers, feeling dried blood of her own where Link had bashed his head against hers. "But I'm all right."

"Where... is he?"

"Gone." Merely saying it made Koume burn with renewed rage. "But he won't get away with it! We're going after him, aren't we?"

"It's no use," Kotake replied wearily as she slowly rose to her feet. "Look at the sun. We were out for half a day." She coughed, and a small stream of blood trickled out of her mouth. "And he has a horse."

"But we can't just let him get away with the Triforce!" Koume protested angrily.

"He already got away," Kotake said wearily, and coughed again. "I need something to drink."

"Yes, you're right." Her sisters words had made Koume realize how parched she was. "Let's go down to the oasis."

"It's a good thing we had these blankets," Kotake said, "or we might have died from sunstroke." She scowled. "Wait, how did they-"

"That bastard!" Koume swore, realizing that Link must have brought the blankets from one of the storerooms in the Spirit Temple. "He... he did this just to humiliate us! To wave his victory in our faces with fake magnanimity!" She focused on the blankets and, with a quick finger movement, set both of them ablaze.

"Who knows what else that swine did to us while we were unconscious?" Kotake asked with a disgusted expression.

Koume nodded absent-mindedly, her eyes now transfixed on the burning blankets, marvelling at the dancing flames as they consumed the white cloth. That there was something strangely soothing about that fire, as if it was purifying her heart, exorcising all the weak emotions like pain and grief.

"We'll find a way to punish the Hylians," she said matter-of-factly. "All of them."

"A pity we can't punish _him_ anymore," Kotake said and pointed at the decapitated corpse lying a short distance away in a pool of blood, its head nowhere to be seen. "If only he was still alive... oh, the tortures we would inflict on him."

"We can always inflict them on others," Koume said, although she shared her sister's frustration – Malark, or Darion, or whoever that man had truly been, deserved punishment beyond imagining. "Let his body lie here to rot in the sun. The vultures will pick the bones clean, and the wind will grind away the bones. In the end, there'll be nothing left of him... just like... like..."

The memory of what had happened to Garanth and the other men made her choke up. The twins may have been all but outcasts from the tribe, but they had still been Gerudo – they had been like distant relatives; not particularly liked, but still related by blood. She wanted to cry again, but something told her that she had forever lost the ability to shed tears.

"Now look at this," Kotake said and bent over, picking up the red-and-silver shield that Astalor had given to Link. "Looks like the Hylian scumbag left this behind." She gave Koume a questioning look. "What do we do with it?"

"I don't care," Koume said, remembering how that shield had made her uneasy. "Put it in a chest and throw away the key."

"That sounds like a good idea," Kotake nodded, visibly uncomfortable with the shield as well.

"Now let's go down to the oasis," Koume said. "I need water."

Kotake nodded in agreement, and the two sisters climbed down through the trap door and into the Spirit Temple, tracing back the way they and the others had taken hours ago, trying to rush to Link's aid. _Yeah, he sure appreciated it_, Koume thought bitterly. _What a two-faced scumbag! And he probably thinks of himself as a hero, too!_

After disposing of the Mirror Shield on their way down, doing exactly what Koume had recommended, the twins continued their descent and reached the ground level before long. But when they were close to the exit, Kotake suddenly stopped, looking at a staircase leading downwards. "I wondered about these stairs before, when we passed through here," she said in response to Koume's questioning look. "But there was no time to think."

"What about them?" Koume asked.

"I don't remember this place having a basement. Do you?"

"Uh. Maybe?" Koume shrugged. "I wasn't in here very often."

"Hm. Let's take a quick look," Kotake said and moved down the stairs.

"I'm thirsty," Koume complained, but followed her anyway, more out of habit than curiosity. Her mood quickly changed when the sisters reached the large, vaulted room at the bottom of the stairs, illuminated not by torches but an omnipresent white light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Rows and rows of shelves were lined up in the middle of the room, each of them carrying hundreds of books; their covers dusty, but otherwise well-preserved.

"Wow," Koume said, her raging emotions replaced with amazement for a moment. "I had no idea this place existed!" She walked to the closest shelf and picked up a book at random – and was more than a little surprised that she could read the title, written in archaic, but readable Gerudo.

"_On the Arcane Properties of Fairy Dust_", she read it aloud. "What kind of nonsense title is that?"

"Hey, look at this one," Kotake said, having pulled out a book of her own. "_Explosive Spells and Their Manifold Applications._" She greedily grabbed another book. "_The Art of Levitating Animate and Inanimate Objects_." Then another. "_From the Smallest Spark to the Purest Hellfire – A Compendium to Fire Spells._" She cackled gleefully "That sounds like something you'd like, doesn't it?"

"Show it to me!" Koume said and almost tore the book out of her sister's hand. Flipping through the pages, she found detailed write-ups on dozens upon dozens of fire spells ordered from least to most powerful, complete with the description of their effects and the hand gestures or incantations required to cast them.

"It's a whole library of magical textbooks!" Koume exclaimed happily. "Why didn't we ever know about this?"

"I think I know," her sister said thoughtfully. "It was probably hidden by some sort of spell."

"And who broke that spell?"

"Malark, of course."

"Ah!" Koume nodded eagerly. "So that's what he came here for! But who wrote all these books?"

"Who cares?" Kotake waved her hand dismissively. "They're here, and we can read them. This is exactly what we needed! We will become the greatest witches the world has ever seen!"

Her sister's words made Koume shudder with anticipation. She was right, of course – now, they could finally take their magical training into their own hands!

"This also means that we won't need the Arbiter anymore," Kotake remarked.

"Oh, him," Koume said, and found that her sympathy for the old wizard had vanished without a trace. "He wasn't going to be useful, anyway. He's either dead or he abandoned us."

"And he's a Hylian," Kotake reminded her.

"Yes," Koume said, and realized that she was still wearing the Arbiter's necklace. "That alone is reason not to trust him," she said, tore the trinket off her neck and hurled it into a corner, never to be seen again.

"What will happen to the others?" Kotake suddenly asked. "I mean, the women?"

"They're probably in a panic right about now," Koume replied after considering her question. "The old men and young boys must all have died, too, and they have no idea why."

"They'll come here before long, looking for answers." Kotake scowled suddenly and bared her teeth. "No, damn it. That bastard Link... He has to pass by the fortress on his way back, and he'll probably tell them lies about what happened here!"

"Then we'll correct the lies," Koume said. "Once they learn that the Hylians are to blame for the deaths of their men, they cannot help but share in our hatred."

"I don't know," Kotake said cautiously. "We're not exactly well-liked. They may not believe us."

"Then they can by all means go to hell," Koume spat. "It's not like we needed them before."

"Perhaps. But either way, I pity them. They're going to have to breed with Hylians if they want to survive as a tribe." Kotake visibly shuddered. "What a revolting thought."

"Wergh." Koume grimaced in disgust. "I swear I'll never sink that low."

"And it's not like we'll need children to continue our work," Kotake pointed out. "Remember what that old fool said – we can virtually live forever by using magic!"

"Indeed." A fascinating thought came to Koume. "That means we'll still be around when the next king is born in a hundred years."

"Perhaps we shall take him under our wings, eh?" Kotake suggested, only half-joking. "Teach him magic, and make sure he doesn't become a weakling like Garanth."

"Teach him that the Hylians are to be hated above all else," Koume whispered as anger and vengefulness once again engulfed her heart. "Turn him into an instrument of our revenge."

Kotake nodded, approving of her plan. "And if he doesn't meet our standards, we can always try again with the next one. As long as we practice magic, time should mean nothing to us."

The sisters looked at each other and nodded gravely, seeing their own emotions reflected in the eyes of the other. At this instant, they shared an understanding that went beyond anything that normally occurred between two people, even identical twins. They had passed through a crucible and come out on the other side forever changed, shedding all that was good and beautiful about them. And they would not have it any other way.

"My heart has become like fire," Koume said, "forever burning with rage. An unquenchable flame that has no equal even in hell."

"My heart has become like ice," Kotake said, "frozen over by hatred. A great cold as eternal and unforgiving as death itself."

"We are Twinrova," both of them intoned, and their voices echoed through the subterranean vaults of the Spirit Temple. "We will never forgive. We will never forget. And the world will pay a terrible price for what happened here today."


	43. A Link to the Future

**Chapter 43: A Link to the Future**

Arnu was the first to cross through the portal and into the Sacred Realm, entering the chamber where the Triforce had been found two generations ago. Walls and ceilings of the chamber were enveloped in darkness, making it impossible to tell with the naked eye whether it was a tiny chamber or a large room. She quickly walked away from the portal's exit to make way for the ones who followed her.

She was quickly joined by her colleagues, the three remaining sages. Each of them knew their purpose and rallied around her; Kasuto nervous, Kaepora solemn, and Rauru melancholy.

Two Zora followed: The young queen five years of age, her sad face indicating that she only wanted to go home. She was accompanied by the majordomo and regent, an old Zora male named Erliss, who also carried the united Triforce before him. As bulky as it was, it was also very light, so the old man had no problems bearing it.

Last of all came Grangus, King of the Gorons and currently the only reigning monarch amongst Hyrule's races. His ruined eyes hidden behind a blindfold, he was led by the hand by a Goron youth. Grangus carried the Master Sword, which, in a way, was quite fitting – with most of Hyrule's monarchs and their armies gone, and a detachment of Goron warriors stationed in the North Garrison, he was the master of Hyrule in all but name now, though his personality made it unlikely that he would try to exploit his position. He and his guide were the last ones to enter, and while the others looked around curiously, he merely stood there in silence.

_Not that there's much to see either way_, Arnu thought. The room they were in actually had an exit – it was just one room inside a large pyramid that some called the 'Temple of Light'. But none of them had any intention of actually stepping outside and into the Sacred Realm proper - they were here only for one purpose, and that would not take them very long.

"So this is the place," Kaepora said, his eyes bulging with scholarly curiosity. "The Triforce rested here for all those ages!"

"As it shall rest again," Grangus said formally. "That is, after all, why we are here."

"Indeed," Arnu said, feeling uneasy in this place. "Let's get it over with."

It was only the second time in her life that Arnu traveled into the Sacred Realm – and, if she had anything to say about it, also the last time. The first time had been twenty years ago, during the horrible famine, and she had shared in the marvel back then. Now she was merely feeling a distant fury at the Triforce and the ruin it had brought over Hyrule.

_But it was people who did it_, she reminded herself,_ not the Triforce itself. After all, that's why we're locking it up, but not throwing away the keys._

"Lord Erliss, if you please?" Grangus said without looking at the Zora regent, and the old man stepped into the centre of the room, where he put down the Triforce as has been agreed beforehand. It immediately hovered again, perhaps ten inches above the ground, and began to rotate around its own axis.

"I have placed it there," the old Zora said for the blind Goron's benefit.

"Good," Grangus said, his frustration at his inability to see for himself barely noticeable. "I insisted that we all came here to bear witness to these events. In accordance with the pact we made, the Triforce shall no longer be used without our unanimous resolution, to prevent tragedy from striking again."

"There is no need to be so polite, your majesty," Arnu said dryly. "Tragedy did not 'strike' like a lightning bolt. It was wrought at the hands of a man who did not receive enough supervision, whose excesses went unnoticed by those who should have guided him." Her gaze swept over Rauru, Kaepora and Kasuto. "But it is I who is to blame most," she added, "for I was the only one who knew about the power of the Triforce. I did not-"

"We have been over this," Grangus interrupted her. "There is no need to chastise yourself any more, Sage Arnu."

_But I seem to feel the need_, she thought. "It is as you say, your highness," she said aloud. "I merely wished to reiterate why we are doing what we're doing now."

"We know this all too well," Erliss rasped, and Arnu recalled that the Zora regent had been far less forgiving during the short, but intense negotiations after Link had delivered the Triforce to the North Garrison. "Try as we might, the Zora will scarcely be able to forget who was behind these terrible crimes..." He glanced at the young child next to him. "And who cost us our venerated queen." The young girl looked at the ground at the mention of her mother, seemingly distressed. Arnu sighed a silent sigh, praying to the Goddesses that Narala's daughter would be able to come to terms with the loss of her mother at some point.

"Nor will we forget," Kaepora offered, eager for reconciliation. "We Hylians have learned out lesson – and, if I may point it out, we paid quite a heavy price for it as well."

"Do you wish to weigh the lives of your citizens against the life of our queen?" Erliss asked coldly.

"The sage wishes nothing of the sort," Grangus said before Kaepora could answer and get himself deeper into trouble. "And please keep one thing in mind: The fact that we all agreed to store the Triforce here, at the doorstep of the new Hylian capital, and not anywhere else, is a sign of the faith and trust we place in the Hylians – and, to a certain degree, also of our forgiveness."

"Only my queen here may forgive or not forgive the death of her mother," Erliss said, and for a few seconds, he and Grangus traded icy looks, while Nari looked unhappily at her guardian. Neither Arnu nor any of her Hylian colleagues dared to interfere, as none of them were in a position to speak. In the end, the Zora regent sighed and shook his head in resignation. "But I won't try to renegotiate our agreement," he finally said.

"The rest of the proceedings will be done outside," Grangus said after a short pause. "So let us go back."

"Ahem." Rauru suddenly cleared his throat. "Before we leave this place, I'd like to make a... modest proposal."

"Why didn't you make it earlier?" Erliss asked.

"Because I only now convinced myself that it is important," Rauru replied.

"Very well," Grangus said. "Speak up."

"Well... you see, I thought..." Rauru was audibly nervous, but he gathered his courage and spoke without hesitating further. "We do not know when next somebody steps through this portal, or for what purpose. History sometimes has a short memory, and it's possible that these events will be forgotten over time. I think we should leave a warning behind, in case someone of less than pure intentions ever comes here again."

"Are you thinking about a written note?" Grangus asked. "Yes, perhaps that might be-"

"Actually, no," Rauru interrupted him. "I was thinking about one of us staying behind here, to warn-"

"Out of the question," Erliss said fiercely. "Whoever staid behind might be tempted to use the Triforce without consulting Hyrule's rulers first – and isn't that what we're trying to prevent?"

"Yes, it would seem to defeat the whole purpose of this exercise," Grangus said, nodding in agreement.

"And besides, how would that person survive in this room?" Arnu asked. "What would they eat and drink?"

_Really, where are you going with this, Rauru? You should be smarter than suggesting something like this._

"Ah, but I have a solution to all of these problems," the Sage of Light said with a sad smile. "Spirit Trance."

_Ah... I see now. Poor Rauru... you would really do that to yourself?_

"And that means... what exactly?" Erliss asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"It is a magic spell that banishes the caster forever into the realm of spirits," Kasuto volunteered to explain, clearly of the opinion that the 'realm of spirits' fell under her purview. "He is forever removed from the physical plane, and can never interact with it again. He can still be seen, however, and talked to."

"So he would be unable to touch the Triforce?" Grangus asked. "But still able to tell people about it?"

"Precisely," Kasuto said, delighted that somebody was actually taking her serious for a change. "In addition, the person also falls into a deep sleep, and will only be awakened when a living, conscious being is nearby."

Although the princess was suffering from the effects of a different spell, Kasuto's description reminded Arnu of Zelda's pitiful condition, and she shuddered.

_Even that spell would be better than the one she's suffering from._

"The spell is easy to perform," Rauru said, "although the drawbacks are such that almost no wizard ever uses it – it only works if one is still at least a few years away from death, so it can't be used to save yourself when you feel your end coming."

"That's all very nice," Erliss said, "but neither King Grangus nor myself have any way to verify this. And I'm afraid I cannot trust you so far."

"Arnu, Kaepora," Grangus said, "is what he said about this spell accurate?"

"Absolutely, yes," Kaepora nodded.

"As far as I know... yes, your highness," Arnu said. "I have only theoretical knowledge about this spell – after all, who would do this to himself?"

"_I_ would," Rauru said, finally letting the cat out of the bag. "My son and his wife fell victim to the plague, and all of my grandchildren were killed by Prince Darion. I have nothing to live for in this world. At least like this, I would have a task to give my existence meaning!"

"Now, now, my friend," Kaepora said, "I understand your losses, but that's no reason to sacrifice yourself!"

"Sacrifice? I wouldn't even be dying! In fact, it's a kind of immortality, from a certain point of view. Please," he looked in the direction of Hylliss and Grangus, "let me do this."

"Hm... I am inclined to trust you," Grangus said.

"But I'm not! I don't like the idea," the Zora regent said. "I cannot agree."

"You mean you want to sleep forever?" the young Zora queen suddenly piped.

"It's kind of like that, yes," Rauru replied. "But I would get to wake up sometimes... maybe."

"It's because your sad, right?" Nari asked further. "Because your family is all gone?"

"That's... part of it," Rauru evaded.

"When Erliss told me mommy was dead, I wanted to sleep, too," Nari said. "Sleep and never wake up." There was a terrible seriousness in her voice that made Arnu shudder. _A five-year-old shouldn't be entertaining thoughts like this!_

"Your majesty, please!" Erliss said, sharing Arnu's shock. "This is no way of thinking for a future queen!"

"I know," Nari said. "I'm not feeling like that anymore."

"That is... good," her regent said.

"I don't understand what you are all talking about," Nari said apologetically. "I'm just a child. But..." She looked sympathetically at the stocky Hylian twice her size. "If he's so sad, we should let him."

"Thank you, your highness," Rauru said without a hint of mockery in his voice, and bowed.

_She's giving him permission to what amounts to suicide,_ Arnu thought. _What has this world come to?_

"I hate to be a sticker for formalities," Grangus said, "but as long as Queen Nari remains a child, her authority is wielded by Regent Erliss. So, if he disagrees, then I'm afraid your idea is rejected, Sage Rauru."

"No, no!" Erliss said quickly. "My queen's wish is my command. I withdraw my objections."

"Very good," Rauru said. "For the sake of not wasting anyone's time, I'll perform the spell right now. It won't take long."

"Living so close to the spirit world... how marvelous!" said Kasuto, who sounded utterly unsurprised, as if Rauru's decision had come natural to her. "It's like being an explorer on an unknown plane of existence!"

"I wish I could be so enthusiastic," Kaepora said sadly. "But I see that you have made up your mind." He shook Rauru's hand. "Farewell, my friend."

"I'd rather say 'goodbye'. Who knows – we may meet again during your lifetime." He smiled. "Or your next."

Arnu, too, stepped forward and shook Rauru's hand. "You're just trying to dodge the rebuilding effort," she said, deciding to part with him on a jokular note.

"That, too, is one of my reasons," Rauru said and smiled. "But it was a distant third. Oh, and take this," he said and handed her the red gem which he had been carrying. "You need this."

With a corteous nod at the Gorons and Zora present, Rauru began chanting a short incantation, raising his hands above his head as he spoke. His body became transparent, intermingling with light, and he closed his eyes. Ever distrustful, Erliss stepped toward him and tried to touch his chest, but his arm merely slipped through him, as if the sage was nothing but air.

"Hm. It seems to have worked," he said and withdrew his hand with a superstitious look. "Shall we go, then?"

"Yes," Grangus said, and the group departed the Sacred Realm through the shimmering portal without looking back at the ethereal sentinel left behind. Arnu was not too thrilled about Rauru's fate, but at least he had chosen it willingly, and she would respect that.

_Still, that means we're reduced to three sages now. Two, considering that Kasuto seems closer to her Spirit World most of the time._ She realized that her last remark to Rauru had not been entirely in jest._ It's going to be so much work, rebuilding the town. And I'm not getting any younger._

"Now to the next step," Grangus said once all of them were back in the normal world, in the small chapel of the North Garrison. "I trust the three of you will be able to do it?"

"Of course," Arnu said and looked at Kasuto and Kaepora. "Let's begin," she said, closed her eyes and reached out them with her mind, beginning the magic spell that would seal the portal to the Sacred Realm and the Triforce with it. It was an easy thing to do, since the portal itself was a fissure in the natural order, and closing it meant restoring that order..

"We've done our part," she said after opening her eyes again and seeing that the blue shimmer had completely vanished. "Now for the keystone."

Grangus nodded and was led by his guide toward the pedestal that had been built on the chapel's floor. The young Goron helped him by moving the tip of the Master Sword into the pedestal, and Grangus completed it by slipping the sword inside until it was firmly stuck.

"Without the threat of the Triforce, this sword no longer has any purpose," Arnu recalled her own words during the preparation for this ceremony. "And since the sealing spell needs a powerful magical object as keystone, it should serve nicely."

"Then comes the most important step now," Erliss said and glance at the gems in the sages' hands. Arnu nodded, and the three of them stepped toward the Master Sword and put the red, green and blue gemstones against it, casting a short spell that would forever bind these three gems to the sword.

"Now it will be impossible for anybody to draw this sword out of its pedestal," Arnu said, "unless that person carries all of these three gems." Erliss was quick to put her words to the test, but he was unable to move the Master Sword even an inch.

"As agreed, these stone will not be kept by Hylians," Arnu said and handed the red gemstone over to Grangus. Kasuto gave her blue gem to the young Zora Queen, who accepted it with a curious look.

"Please take this stone, too," Kaepora said, and gave the green gem to Grangus.

"I'll have a messenger convey it to the Kokiri as we agreed," the Goron King said. "They have consented to harbour it."

"Then why wasn't a representative of theirs here today?" Erliss asked, his sense of protocol insulted.

"The Kokiri believe that they will die if they leave their forest," Arnu explained. "That's a pretty good reason, I suppose."

"It seems like superstition," the Zora regent quipped. "Or an excuse to stay out of the affairs of Hyrule."

"After what happened in the last weeks, can you blame them?" Arnu asked, but Erliss merely shrugged.

"These are all the security measures, then?" Grangus asked.

"Oh, there will be more," Arnu assured him. "More mundane, though – we plan to lock this pedestal behind a wall that can't be opened except by magic. And we'll probably enlarge this chapel to a temple, so people won't notice the sealed-off section. But that'll have to wait until this town is prospering." She shrugged apologetically. "It's not much of a town as it is, but if the enthusiasm of the people is any indication, it'll be a full-fledged city within a decade."

"Splendid," Erliss said wryly, indicating that the prosperity of the Hylians was pretty much the last thing on his mind. "Then we're all done here, right? We have to get going soon – at her age, the queen should not be away from water for too long." Without waiting for an answer, the Zora Regent took Nari's hand and led her outside the chapel. The little girl was still clutching the Zora Emerald to her chest and looked back once at Arnu, raising one hand in a shy wave. Giving her her best impression of a grandmotherly smile, Arnu waved back and watched the two Zora leave the chapel.

"He's still bitter about the loss of his queen," Grangus said apologetically.

"He has every reason to," Arnu said. "I'd say his frustration is not as remarkable as your lenience... especially considering..." She pointed at his blindfold, before realizing that he could not see that gesture.

"If Hyrule is to have a future, we cannot afford to bear grudges," Grangus said. "And the fact that you cleaned up your own mess helped tremendously."

_More like we sent a single young man to do it for us_, Arnu thought and sighed wordlessly. _But we had no other options. _She recalled Link's triumphant arrival in Keeptown three days ago, dragging the Triforce behind his horse while being cheered on by the people. _And he succeded in the end._

"And besides," the Goron King said, "there will be restrictions placed on your kingdom, especially in regards to military matters. At least for a while."

"Yes, you hinted at that," Kaepora said. "Such as?"

"We Gorons are concerned by Kakariko Village, and its strategic location – it served to cut us off from the rest of Hyrule during the war. But rather than razing it, we're planning to dig tunnels to Zora's Domain and other places, so that we can never be besieged again."

Arnu only nodded. She had very little interest in military affairs – more so after having voted for the mobilization against the Gorons, which she still considered the worst mistake of her life – and was basically fine with whatever restrictions Grangus was going to impose.

"We must also insist that the Sheikah will train no more battle mages, nor their vaunted 'Elites'. This will serve to sap Hylian military strength. The connection between your two races will largely have to be severed, I'm afraid."

Arnu nodded again, acknowledging that her peoples' fealty to the Hylians would be coming to an end.

_It's funny... in a way, Malark got what he wanted after all. Except he probably wouldn't be happy about it. Not that he ever was happy about anything. May he burn in hell forever._

"Our numbers have already been dwindling for a long time," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if our race were to die out over the next few centuries."

"Now, now," Kaepora said, "no need to be so pessimistic."

"It's quite all right," Arnu said, recalling the secret history of her people that Malark had revealed to her decades ago. _We never really were a race of our own, anyway._

"Then I, too, will be taking my leave," Grangus said. "Give my regards to prince Kyrus – that is, when he's old enough to understand them."

"I'll do that," Arnu said and bowed, as did Kaepora, while Kasuto was staring blandly into space, probably half-adrift in the spirit world. Led by his young guide, the Goron King left the chapel.

"I must admit, it feels good to have some sense of closure to this horrible affair," Kaepora said after a period of sullen silence. "Now we can focus on the future."

"Oh, there will be lots of trouble in the future, right here, in this place," Kasuto suddenly spoke behind them. "I have seen it all during a long vision I had yesterday!"

"Uh... how nice," Arnu said non-committally, exchanging doubting glances with Kaepora.

"My prophecy is one of the reasons that Rauru stayed beyond the portal," Kasuto boasted, "although he didn't mention that, strangely enough. But he'll definitely be needed."

"What?" Arnu stared at Kasuto in disbelief. "You told Rauru about that prophecy of yours, and he _believed _it? And he was willing to trap himself inside that room because of it? He must have taken leave of his senses!" She looked at Kaepora for support, but the Sage of the Forest merely shrugged, his eyes saying 'What's done is done'.

"I'll have you know that there'll be no criticism of my prophecies," Kasuto informed Arnu. "Particularly this one. It was longer and more detailed than any other I ever had! In fact, I was talking to Rauru when the clairvoyance came over me, so he heard everything!"

"I don't even want to know what you told him," Arnu sighed wearily. "At least that way, I can try to convince myself that it wasn't utter nonsense and Rauru sacrificed himself for a good reason."

"W-what did you say?" Kasuto asked, staring at Arnu open-mouthed. "Utter nonsense?"

"Your prophecies have always been nonsense. Nothing short of a miracle could have changed that."

Kasuto continued to stare; not even angry, but utterly disbelieving that her glorious gift would be dismissed thus.

"Sorry, but somebody had to say it some day," Arnu said, and quickly left the chapel, feeling awkward as well as a little bit mean, as she was leaving Kaepora to deal with the fallout from Kasuto.

_'Nothing short of a miracle,' eh? Well, the fact that the Gods sent us a gift from the sky to aid us might just have been such a miracle. Or the fact that a sixteen-year-old boy used that sword to save us all._

Arnu recalled the evening after Link's return three days ago, when he had told her all about his experiences – the truth about Malark's involvement, his and Darion's death, and the terrible curse placed on the Gerudo in revenge for helping Link. The latter was particularly tragic, especially since the surviving women had almost killed Link out of rage and shock when he had passed by their fortress – renewed hostilities were to be expected.

_What kind of world is this, where you get punished for doing the right thing?_ she wondered. _Ah, but it's no use... we'll just have to see how things develop._

Arnu walked around the chapel to the garrison's small graveyard. There was a fresh, unnamed grave there – very small, housing merely Darion's head that Link had given her under the cover of dark. A grisly gift to be sure, but she had appreciated the opportunity to put Darion to rest, and had buried his remains an hour before dawn, unseen by preening eyes. Link had even volunteered to help, but she had declined, thus allowing him to escape his newly-found fame and fortune before sunrise, riding back to his village. She had not even asked where that village was, so she could truthfully say that she had no idea where the young hero had gone.

_He's modest to a fault, not staying here and basking in his glory. Janos would have torn his arm out to have him as a knight... but it's his choice. And he certainly deserves his happy ending, if anyone does._

Then again, Arnu had never believed in happy endings, and recent events had not made her more inclined to do so. With a deep sigh, she produced the Ocarina of Time from beneath her cloak and played a somber tune; a requiem for the departed and for heroes yet to fall.


	44. The Forging of the Chain

**Chapter 44: The Forging of the Chain**

When Link woke up, he found himself in a bed – a rather ordinary place to wake up in, if one thought about it, but he had enjoyed this luxury only rarely over the past weeks, usually sleeping on a mat of pressed straw on the grass or the sand. Feeling the softness of a woolen blanket on his skin and the straw-filled mattress cushioning his back was nothing short of heavenly. The feeling of a warm body nestled up against his chest only served to complete the impression of utter comfort.

_Woah. Wait. How did I...?_

In a startling instant, Link was awake, staring at the sleeping girl next to him, and felt himself blush. She groaned when he suddenly moved, but did not wake up, and he recognized her as Kari, his best friend since childhood. After a sudden, but short pang of headache, the memories returned, and Link sat still with his mouth open, stroking Kari's short black hair and recalling the events of the previous night.

He had arrived in Valhart in the late evening of the day before, just after the onset of darkness, and his return had been noticed by few. After leading the horse into the stables of his house, he had been surprised to find Kari in the unlit living room, sitting at the table, her head cradled in her arms, sobbing weakly.

"L-Link?" she had asked with a trembling voice upon seeing him. "Is that really you? You're not a ghost?"

Upon hearing his assurances that he was most definitely not a ghost, Kari had thrown herself against Link, still crying, but now tears of joy, not sorrow. It turned out that the news of the destruction of Keeptown and the Hylian army had only reached the village earlier that day, related by a traveling merchant. It had been almost two weeks since these events, but news always took their time to reach Valhart. Unaware of his survival, Kari had believed Link to be among the thousands of victims, grieving for him in his home until the moment of his miraculous return.

"I'm back," he had told her while holding her in his arms. "And I'm not going to leave again." At that moment, had felt happier than during his arrival at the North Garrison, even though several hundreds of people had been cheering for him back then. He had never been able to feel comfortable in large crowds; perhaps that came with growing up in a small rural village.

Soon after, Kari had asked him about what had happened to him, and at some point during his retelling of the various hells he had been through, Link had suddenly been the one to cry. Finally out of dangers to brave and risks to take, everything that had happened had come crushing down on him: The deaths of his foolish recruits over the course of several useless battles, the immolation of the Hylian army, the destruction of Keeptown, and the annihilation of half the Gerudo race. For all his supposed heroism, he had not been able to prevent any of these deaths, and he let his tears run freely while cradled in the arms of his friend.

"You can't protect everyone," Kari had told him. "Surviving all these terrible things is already more than most people would have managed. You should be proud of yourself." Link had accepted that for the time being, and allowed Kari to steer the conversation to less emotional topics – about recent ongoings in Valhart, Kari's work with Link's farm and the various sorts of mischief wrought by her brother. They had shared a bottle of wine while talking – or rather several, Link recalled, in a display of youthful indulgence.

Hours had passed, and at some point after midnight, Kari's face had somehow moved closer and closer to Link's, until they had been locking lips, and things had taken their course from there. In retrospect, it was not all that surprising – both of them had longed for comfort, and they had been close friends for as long as they had known each other. Being somewhat drunk had probably helped, too, and so there they were, nestled against each other in Link's bed, while the first rays of the morning sun shone through the first-story window.

_I think I could be very happy like this_, Link concluded.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched shriek outside, echoing for a second before it was cut off abruptly. Another scream followed, this one silenced even sooner, and the ominous sounds of countless heavy feet trampling through a field followed.

_What's going on?_

Roused by the noises from outside, Kari opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. "There's somebody outside," Link whispered tersely.

"Wh-who?" Kari asked, her face suddenly pale. She put both hands on Link's shoulders and brought her face close to his own. "What do we do?" she whispered in his ear.

"We have to get dressed and run," Link hissed, "quickly!" He rose from the bed and began to pick up Kari's and his clothes from the floor, but he froze when he heard the splintering sound of a door being destroyed in the story below, followed by heavy footsteps on the creaking staircase of his house. Link dropped the clothes and looked for his sword, and cursed himself when he realized that he had left it on the saddle bag, in the stable.

"We're trapped!" he said and squeezed Kari's hand. The footsteps had reached the first floor, and he heard several more doors being kicked in. The steps sounded like they were made by large men in heavy armour – or something larger than men.

"The window!" Kari's voice came from behind Link, and he felt her hand tugging at his arm. "Hurry!"

But before either of them reached the window at the other end of the room, the door was broken down, and a savage-looking pig-creature charged inside, placing himself between the two and their escape route. Another Moblin appeared in the frame, shaking a short spear in their direction, and Link could see even more shapes moving through the house. One of them clattered as it walked, encased in a layer protective plate armour.

"This is wrong," Link whispered to himself. "This isn't supposed to happen."

In spite of his terror, and although he was naked and unarmed, Link did not hesitate to throw himself at the Moblin standing close to the window. He gripped his spear with both hands and tried to pull it away from him while kicking against his knee, but it was no good. The Moblin did not let go of his weapon, and the feeble kicks of Link's bare feet did not seem to hurt him at all. With an amused grunt, he pushed his opponent away, catching his right arm before he fell. The monster's large paw crushed Link's wrist, but he suppressed his scream and continued to struggle, doing whatever he could to keep the monster occupied.

"Kari, run!" he yelled without turning around. "Climb out of the window! I'll try to buy you time!" But before Kari could answer, the Moblin who was holding Link slammed him to the floor and stepped over him toward the bed. Struggling to his feet, he saw her scratching the monster's face, going for its eyes, but the Moblin only laughed and knocked her unconscious with a brutal blow to the head. Before he could rush to her aid, Link's arms were grabbed again by the second Moblin, and he was pulled back from the bed by his captor.

"Buy time?" The familiar voice behind him let the blood in Link's veins freeze over.

"That's funny," Unthok said as he entered the room, carrying a large halberd with one hand. "Because we're not selling any." Smiling maliciously at Link, he pushed himself past his minions, clenched his free hand into a fist and raised his arm.

"No," Link said helplessly. "Please, let her go, and I-"

"I told you, we meet again," Unthok interrupted him and brought his fist down on Link's head.

* * *

The first thing Link noticed when he awoke, before he even saw or heard anything around him was the smell; the familiar stench of burning flesh assaulting his nose. His eyes were closed and his lids heavy, and he decided that he did not even want to open them, knowing full well what sight expected him. Large, meaty hands were holding his arms behind his back, and the hot wind blowing against his skin told him that he was still naked.

_But I can't just pretend to be unconscious,_ he told himself. _I have to look for Kari._

Steeling himself for what he was going to see, Link opened his eyes and saw that he was in hell. Fire was all around him, and burning structures creaked and crackled as they were consumed by the flames. A mountain of burning corpses had been piled up right in front of him, many of them already charred beyond recognition. Hulking, grotesque demons were moving at the edge of the pile, here and there bringing a new body to feed the flames. Their leader, a devil in heavy armour was standing among them, clapping loudly while staring at the large pyre in front of him. Then, as if he had somehow noticed Link's awakening, he turned around at looked him in the eyes, smiling demonically.

Link recognized him, and he realized that he was not in hell, although he might have preferred to be there had he been given the choice. He was still in the main square of Valhart village, and the bodies before him were his fellow villagers. He identified several whose faces were not yet burnt beyond recognition, and he would surely have emptied his stomach had he not gone without food since yesterday afternoon.

_No! This can't be! This is just too much! I'm hallucinating, aren't I? This is just a dream!_

"Hello, naughty boy," the devil called out to Link and waved at him, shattering all illusions that the scene playing out around him was not real. "Pu-nish-ment!" he warbled happily and trudged toward Link.

_Kari? Where are you?_

Link threw his head around and gasped when he saw Kari standing just a short distance to his right, staring fearfully in his direction, her thin, pale body shivering in spite of the heat. She, too, was being restrained by a Moblin who stared impassively over her shoulder, more interested in the large pyre before him than his captive. "Link!" she cried out when she saw him turn toward her, struggling futilely against her captor's grip for a few seconds before giving up. "Link, I... we..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared at Link with haunted, terrified eyes – after all, what was there to say?

_They followed my trail_, Link realized with horror. _That's how they found this place._

"This is my fault," he cried out. "I led them here. I did-"

"Link!" Kari's voice was shrill enough to make most Moblins turn around and look at her quizzically, interrupting their butchers' work for a second. "Link, what's wrong with you?" she shouted. "You didn't do anything! Are you stupid?"

"But he's right." Unthok had arrived in front of Link, his weapon and armour splattered with blood. "He's right," he repeated and peered at Kari, raising his halberd in mock-salute. "We followed him. It's all your boyfriend's fault."

"That's not true!" Kari yelled at the Moblin King. "Shut up!"

"Oooh, scary girl," Unthok giggled, and Link felt like he was about to tear his arms out of their sockets, so hard was he struggling against the hold of the Moblin behind him. He spat and yelled and kicked out at Unthok, but the Moblin King only bobbed his head under Link's feeble assault, not even deigning to laugh at him.

"Are you done?" he asked when Link finally ceased his futile efforts, exhausted and dehydrated by the heat around him. As he drew in the air with greedy breaths, he also drew in more of the stench of burning flesh, a stench that he had hoped never to smell again.

"Why did you do this?" Link asked hoarsely. "What do you gain from this?"

"We're Moblins," Unthok said. "Didn't you know? Raiding villages is what we do! It's all a huge coincidence!" He shook himself with laughter again. "I'm joking. We followed the track of your horse." He pointed at his large snout. "I sniffed you out myself."

_So this is what it all comes to in the end? When you fight evil, you pay the price, and those you love pay it, too? What's wrong with this world?_

"I... I just tried to do the right thing," Link whispered to himself, utterly defeated. "It's not fair!"

"Har! Har!" Unthok shook with laughter. "Oh, that's good." He pursed his snout and imitated Link's haughty tone from their confrontation in the Spirit Temple. "Life isn't fair!" Entirely taken with his retort, Unthok resumed laughing, and Link could not even be bothered to care about his body being showered with spittle. Allowing his head to bob to the right, he weakly looked at Kari and said: "I'm sorry. I should never have come back."

"Then I'd still think you were dead!" she protested.

"But you'd also still be alive!" Link said without joy for being right. "Or do you think this monster is going to let us live?"

"That's why you mustn't blame yourself! If we have to die, please don't die hating yourself! You're a hero! And you're my-"

"No, no, no," Unthok said and walked toward Kari, shaking his large head every time he repeated the word. "Not a hero. A cheater." He planted himself in front of her, bending forward to see eye to eye with her. "Look, I like to fight people," he explained to her like a teacher to a slow child. "Strong people. I almost never lose, but against strong people, it's fine." He leaned forward to whisper into her ear, but his coarse voice made actual whispering impossible. "But your boyfriend, he's not strong. He cheated, and he got lucky!"

"Pathetic!" Kari hissed and glared at Unthok. "You're twice his weight, you have all this armour and a huge weapon, and an army of monsters follows you around. But in the end, you're just a sore loser!"

_No, don't provoke him!_

"Booh," Unthok mock-whined, "I'm so hurt. Really, my heart is exploding!"

"So you're here because of me!" Link shouted in an attempt to draw Unthok's attention back to himself. "Then come over here and look at me!"

"Oh, sure," Unthok replied and slapped Kari casually across her cheek, then returned to Link, who was seething inside but tried to keep his voice calm. Leaning forwards as far as his Moblin captor would allow, he brought his face close to Unthok's ear and whispered.

"You can do whatever you want with me, just let her go!"

"You're talking stupid," the Moblin King replied after a few seconds' consideration. "I can already do anything to you. You don't have anything I want."

"The... the Triforce!" Link was grasping at straws, but he had to buy them time, distract Unthok as long as possible, buy them time until... until... "I know where it is! I can lead you there, and-"

"I don't want that stupid thing," Unthok cut him off. "Now shut up and listen, because we play a little game now." Link shivered and shook his head – he did not even want to know what kind of game the monster had in mind.

"Oh, it's really simple," Unthok said, "even for you." He pointed at Link, then at Kari. "I kill you both now. But you get to choose." The Moblin King flashed his teeth as if he had just done Link a huge favour. "Who do I kill first?"

"Please, just stop this," Link cried weakly. "Let her go, and I-"

"No, no," Unthok interrupted, annoyed that Link was not playing along. "You both die. Just tell me who I kill first."

"Don't say anything, Link," Kari called out. "Just don't answer!"

_I'm sorry_, Link thought_, but I can't watch you die, too._

"Fine," he whispered. "Me first!"

"Huh?" Unthok put a hand behind his large ear, looking befuddled on purpose. "What did you say? 'She first?' All right, as you wish!" Turning his huge back to Link, he walked toward Kari. It took Link a second to realize Unthok's mockery, then he began to sob silently, too weak to raise his voice again.

"Don't look, Link!" Kari shouted desperately when Unthok reached her and put the blade of his halberd against her throat. "Close your-"

But Link could not turn away, nor close his eyes. Some strange sense of duty made him look at Kari when Unthok dragged his halberd along her throat with a quick jerk of his arm. The Moblin who was restraining Link howled with joy, the loud sound so close to his ears that he was deafened for a short while; long enough that when he could hear again, the feeble movement's of Kari's lips no longer produced any sounds. Blood was streaming out of her throat down her naked body, and when her captor let go of her at Unthok's command, she toppled forward and fell over, hitting the ground face first. After that, she did not move anymore.

_She's dead_, Link thought stupidly. _And I'm next._

_Help me. Please, anybody. Help me._

_Help me..._

"Next one! Next one!" Unthok had returned and was shouting at Link, his snout mere inches away from his face. "Oh, are you sad?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hm, I could let you go now. Then you'd be sad for your whole life!" The Moblin King scratched his chin, as if he was seriously considering this possibility. "Hm, that would be pretty subtle," he mumbled.

_Help me..._

"But I'm not subtle," the Moblin King decided suddenly. "I'm Unthok. I just like to kill people." He dropped his halberd, drew a short dagger and seized Link's right arm, putting the blade to his wrist. Far beyond struggling, Link watched as Unthok dragged the dagger along his arm almost down to the elbow, tearing open the artery. The pain was numb and short-lived, and a large stream of blood gushed out of the wound.

_Can't he even... do it quickly?_

Silently giggling, Unthok slashed Link's left arm as well, then had his captor turn him around and severed his hamstrings at both knees before telling the Moblin to let go of him. Link's legs gave way and he fell backwards, landing on his back. The pain in his knees and arms coalesced, as did the streams of blood, and soon he was lying in a red pool that became larger by the second.

"Now you can't run," Unthok told him unnecessarily as he picked up his halberd. "You just lie here and die." He raised his voice and barked a short command, whereupon the dozens of Moblins assembled in front of him, some of them sporting disappointed looks. "We're leaving," he told Link without looking back at him. "Bye." A stomping of many feet began, and the earth shook around him, until all the Moblins had left the burning ruins of Valhart village.

_I'm dying._

Link felt himself weakening rapidly as his blood gushed out of his body. Even if his hamstrings had not been cut, he probably would have been unable to get up, let alone walk. He dragged himself a few inches forward, but desisted – where would he crawl to? Kari's corpse? He would rather not see it.

_I'm dying_, he thought again as the soil around him greedily soaked up the gallons of blood he was shedding. _And all alone._

"Not alone," a female voice suddenly spoke somewhere close by. "And not yet."

With a shudder, Link let his head bob to the side to look in the direction it had come from. Kari was standing upright again, heedless of the blood still gushing out of her throat, shining with a faint golden radiance. Not for one instant did Link allow himself to hope for the impossible; instead, he recognized the speaker for what she was.

"You asked for help," she said. "Here I am." There was a faint, ethereal undertone to Kari's voice, Link noticed. So similar, yet so different from his dead friend... or love.

"Get out of her body!" Link croaked. The sight of Kari being used by the Goddesses had him mad with rage, but he was unable to even talk loud, let alone move. "Get out of her, you useless, stupid, evil-"

"Please heed my words," the Goddess said, and Kari's body took a step toward Link, leaving a trail of blood behind. "It is for your own good, and the good of your world."

"Leave me alone!" Link whispered. "At least then I can join her in heaven!"

There was an awkward silence that lasted only a few seconds, then Kari – no, her body! – knelt down next to Link, touched his wrists with her soft hands and said:

"I am afraid there is no such thing... Or at least your kind cannot join us there."

"Great," Link said and would have burst out in wearied laughter if he had been able to.

_I always suspected that, didn't I?_

"Then why are you even here? To mock me? Get out of her, all of you!"

"There is no 'we' this time," the voice said, and Kari's face contorted in sympathy, which forced Link to close his eyes – he could not stand to look at this mockery any further.

"It is only I, Farore."

"Just say what you want," Link whispered, hoping that he would be left to die in peace afterwards. _It can't take much longer, anyway_, he thought as he noticed that the soil had stopped soaking up his blood and the pool in which he was lying grew larger and larger.

"First, you must know that it is near impossible for us to intervene directly with this world, even though we are Goddesses, because it goes against the laws Nayru made. Din and I had to force a vote just to send you the Master Sword, so reluctant was she."

"What's your point?"

"Even now, I am here without my sisters' knowledge, for what I intend to do would even outrage Din. Even slowing down your bleeding as I am doing now would go against their will, let alone saving your life – which is what I intend to do."

Even though he had been begging for help just now, the prospect of surviving was not so appealing to Link, especially with Kari dead.

_So you want to save me after you let everyone else around me die? Life will be wonderful that way._

"Fortunately for us, they will only be able to notice what I am doing after the fact."

"And then you'll get into trouble for helping me?" Link asked, although that was not what he had wanted to say.

"It is easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

"Aren't you virtuous." Talking so brashly to a Goddess was probably not a good idea, but things could scarcely get any worse.

"It is not my virtue that brought me here," Farore said calmly. "It is yours. For you see, I not only intend to save your life, but also to preserve your soul."

"What's that even supposed to mean?"

_She really seems to be slowing down the bleeding, or else I would be dead by now. Can she really save me?_

_Of course she can, she's a Goddess! But do I even want to go on living like this? That's what it all comes down to, isn't it?_

"As you know, the Triforce has been let loose upon your world. My sisters believe that the Master Sword alone is enough to compensate for its presence, but I am not so certain. I know that a sword is nothing without a hero to wield it. This time, we found a hero who rose to the challenge. But what about the next time somebody starts trouble using the Triforce?"

"Not my problem," Link said. "Even if you save me now, I won't be around then."

"But you could be. If only you allow me to enshrine your soul, I would see to it that it is reincarnated every time evil threatens your world with the Triforce."

"So I can play the hero for you again, and suffer through all this pain and anguish again, and again, and again?" Link laughed at the stupidity of the Goddess. "What's so special about my soul anyway?"

"Do you not know it yourself?" Farore asked in surprise. Link wanted to open his eyes, to see the half-stupid, half-cute expression Kari made whenever she was surprised, but he resisted the temptation – that person kneeling next to him was not Kari anymore.

"No danger has deterred you, no horror broken you, no foe overcome you," Farore said. "You have the soul of a peerless hero, one whose like the world may never see again if steps are not taken to preserve it."

"Spare me your flattery," Link coughed. "I never asked to be rewarded for becoming a hero, but I didn't want to lose everything, either! Do you really expect me to become your tool for the rest of eternity, without anything to show for?"

"If you agree, I will heal your wounds entirely," Farore offered, "and your life will be yours to lead as you see fit. But after you die, your soul will be mine to reincarnate for as long as the Triforce exists." She hesitated, then added: "You need not worry about unpleasant memories, for none of your reincarnations shall remember anything about their past lives."

"You're trying to barter with me? Ha! You have to put something better on the table than just my miserable life!" A sudden idea struck him, and Link opened his eyes, staring at Kari's face above his head, trying to overlook her death wound. "Bring back Kari," he demanded, "and her brother, too. No, everyone in this village!"

_Why stop there? Why not the dead Gerudo, and the people of Keeptown, and..._

_Because I have to think of myself one of these days, damn it!_

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Farore replied, and Kari's face turned sad. This time, Link was strong enough to keep looking at her, telling himself that Kari would be all right with it if she knew.

"Impossible?" Link snorted, or at least tried to make a similar sound. "I thought you're a goddess!"

"Arbitrarily saving a single mortal from death is already against my sisters' will, though barely justifiable. But they will not stand for anything beyond that, and reverse whatever changes I make."

"Tell your sisters to go to hell," Link hissed. Farore did not answer, which gave him time to ponder her words.

_So she can save one single mortal? Very well..._

"I agree to your offer," Link said firmly, "but with one change."

"Name it."

"If you can only save one life, it must be Kari's, not mine. You can have my soul right here and now for all I care."

"Resurrecting somebody who is dead..." Farore hesitated, furrowing Kari's brow. "that is far bolder than healing somebody who is still alive."

"You're the Goddess of Courage, aren't you?" Link snapped. "Be bold, then!"

"You have a point," Farore said and Kari's body smiled. The terrible wound in her throat made it a ghastly sight, but Link still savoured it.

_It's probably the last smile of her I'll be able to see._

"Very well, I think it can be done. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

"As sure as can be. Do it."

"Then the pact is sealed," Farore said formally, "the chain is forged. Each time a new Link is added to it, I shall remember your valour and selflessness with great pride."

The goddess let Kari's hands touch her destroyed throat, and with a flash of blinding golden light, the wound was closed and Kari's body restored.

"I must withdraw now," Farore said. "You have not long to live, my hero. I shall retrieve your soul the instant you pass away. Farewell, and thank you."

"Thank the poor guy who gets to be my first reincarnation," Link muttered, but Farore had already left Kari's body, because the golden shine had vanished completely. As soon as the Goddess had left, Kari gasped, her breath suddenly returned, and touched her repaired throat while staring open-mouthed at Link. He tried to favour her with one last smile of his own, but was uncertain whether or not it actually worked; the moment Farore had withdrawn, the bleeding had continued at full strength, and he felt the life rapidly leaving his body.

"Link?" Kari asked, confused at first, then mortified when she saw his slashed arms and blood-soaked skin. "Link, what happened?" She reached around his shoulders and pulled him in a sitting position, heedless of how much blood she got on herself. "Where are... how..." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I don't understand!"

"There's no time," Link whispered weakly. "You have to find some clothes and go to another village!"

"B-but... I was dead!"

"I made a deal with someone," Link explained, barely able to hear his own voice, so weak had it become. "The best deal I ever made." He tried to move his arm toward Kari's face, but was too weak. Seeing his attempt, Kari took his hand and put it on her cheek, crying and smiling at the same time, putting on a brave face for his benefit.

"You have to live!" Link rasped. "Promise me!"

"I'll live," Kari said earnestly. "I'll live to grow a hundred years old! I swear to you!"

"Good," Link said, stroking her cheek. "At least I managed to protect you... It's just too bad we can't be together anymore."

Kari shook her head and opened her mouth, as if she was about to contradict him, but her lips froze before she could speak. She, too, could see Link's wounds, and she had never been a romantic fool – she was not going to tell him that things would turn out all right when they clearly would not.

"I'll never forget you," she said instead. It was something Link could believe.

"You better not, after I went through all the trouble..." In spite of the heat of the inferno around them, Link shivered. "It's so cold..." The last of his strength left him, and he would have fallen back to the ground if Kari had not thrown her arms around his neck, keeping him propped up.

"I'll hold you," Kari said, and all he could do was hang in her arms. "I'll keep you warm."

"You have to leave the village," Link told her, "or you'll be trapped in the fire!"

"There's at least one large gap in the fire," Kari reassured him. "I won't be trapped. And I won't leave you until... until..." She bit her lips and allowed her tears to flow free.

Kari and Link continued holding each other, sitting in a pool of blood in the shadow of a corpse pile, yet utterly heedless of their gruesome surroundings. During what little time together they had left, they would not be distracted by anything.

"I think this is goodbye," Link said after a short while, when not even the warmth of Kari's body could keep the creeping cold at bay.

"Goodbye," Kari replied without letting go of him. Link's eyelids closed, heavy as lead, and she vanished from his world, and he from hers.

_So this is the end_, Link thought as he felt his soul drift away.

"No. This is only the beginning."


	45. Epilogue

**Epilogue: The Hero out of Time**

Rauru's awakening was sudden and instant, as if a loud bell had been rung right next to his head. Without any of the fatigue of actual physical sleep, he opened his eyes and looked at the one who had awakened him from his ethereal slumber, the one who had entered the Temple of Light through the portal from Hyrule.

He was a young Hylian boy, about ten years of age, wearing green clothes reminiscent of the ones worn by the hero who slew Prince Darion – what had his name been again? He was holding the Master Sword in both hands, and the green, blue and red gemstones required to draw it from its pedestal were hanging on a pendant around his neck. The boy staggered forward with his eyes half-closed, taking no notice of the sentinel whom he had just awakened, and after a few unsure steps fell to the side and collapsed. Rauru might have been afraid for his safety, had it not been foretold by Kasuto that this would happen.

_Everything is proceeding as she has foreseen_, he thought, idly looking at the small, firefly-like creature that was lying on the floor next to the boy, joining him in his sleep. _Now, in order to prevent me from going back into the trance, there must be another arrival... ah, there he is._

A tall man strode through the shimmering portal with the gait of a ruler, his head raised high, a satisfied smile on his face. His dark skin and red hair immediately identified him as a Gerudo, and he overlooked the chamber like a warlord overseeing his conquest. His eyes passed over the sleeping boy with a short hesitation that indicated mild disinterest and moved on to the Triforce that floated in the middle of the room, emitting a radiant golden light. His smile turned into a wide grin, and without bothering to look any further, he strode toward it with a greedy glint in his eyes.

"Hold!" Rauru shouted, and his words made the Gerudo freeze in his steps, assuming a tense posture and overseeing the rest of the chamber with hurried glances. When he saw the half-transparent figure of the sage standing in the far corner of the room, he raised his palms that were red with fresh blood and moved his fingers in preparation of a spell.

"So they placed a sentinel here," he said, his voice disdainful and self-assured. "Have at you, old man!" he cried out and sent a green magic projectile toward Rauru. The Sage of Light did not flinch when the spell shot toward him and passed through his ethereal body, hitting the wall behind him with no effect.

"You cannot hurt me," he calmly told the Gerudo.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the intruder said, drew a large, two-handed sword and charged at Rauru, his patterned cape waving in the air as he ran. He jumped high and brought the sword down on Rauru in an attack that would have cleaved him in two, had the Spirit Trance not protected him. As it were, the blade passed through him as if through air, and his attacker eyed Rauru with a surly gaze.

"What foolishness is this?" he asked, putting back his sword. "I recognize this spell. It means I can't touch you, but you can't hurt me, either." He shook his head in disbelief. "What kind of guardian would make himself unable to protect his treasure?"

"But you are mistaken," Rauru replied calmly, although he did regret the fact that he could not even try to fight this man, whose evil intentions would have been plain to see even without Kasuto's prophecy – the blood on his hands and his willingness to kill the supposed 'guardian' without hesitation left no doubt about that. Rauru wondered what set of circumstances would have led this man to enter the Sacred Realm right after that boy, and concluded that he must have been watching and following him from afar.

"I am not a guardian," he said. "I am merely Rauru, Sage of Light."

"And I am Ganondorf," the man replied, "King of the Gerudo." He waved his hand dismissively, as if he was expecting Rauru to bow before him, and wanted him to dispense with the formalities. "Tell me, Rauru: Why are you even here? In your current state, you have no power to stop me."

"So you can only see the world in terms of power?" Rauru asked. Kasuto's prophecy had told him that it was futile to try and change this man's mind, but it was unthinkable that he not at least try and appeal to his conscience.

_Assuming he even has one._

"Don't insult me, you ghostly apparition," Ganondorf said. "I believe in power above all else, but I realize that it's only a means to an end."

"Indeed," Rauru nodded, relieved that this man was not merely coveting power for the sake of power. "Then what is your end?" he asked.

"To see my people prosper."

"A noble goal," Rauru nodded in appreciation, commenting bitterly in his mind that noble goals were no safeguard against evil. "One you would freely spill blood for," he added and pointed at Ganondorf's blood-stained hands.

"Violence, too, is only a means to an end," the Gerudo King smiled.

"He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword," Rauru quoted a passage from an obscure tome he had once read.

"Ah, you're referring to the magic sword that can deflect even the might of the Triforce," Ganondorf said and peered at the boy sleeping close by. "I have been warned about it, so I shall break it over my knees, right here and now."

_So the Gerudo remember this sword... But there's one thing this king does not seem to know._

Rauru calmly watched Ganondorf walk over to the boy and bend over, reaching for the Master Sword that he was clutching even in his sleep. The instant he touched its hilt, he recoiled and almost fell over backwards, yelling in shock and pain. He waved his right hand as if he had touched red-hot iron, and smoke rose from his palm.

"What's with this sword?" he demanded, looking again at Rauru.

"This is the Blade of Evil's Bane," Rauru informed him. "It has been blessed by the Goddesses, so that evil ones may never touch it. And I doubt you could destroy it, either."

"Whatever," Ganondorf grunted with barely-hidden frustration. "It's not like I could be defeated even with that sword. And certainly not by a little kid," he added and kicked hard against the sleeping boy below him. The boy groaned softly, but did not wake up from his magical sleep which, if Kasuto was right, had been brought about by the Master Sword itself because it had judged the boy too young to be a hero.

"Listen to me, you fool!" Rauru cried out, if only to turn Ganondorf's attention away from the sleeping boy. "The first man who claimed the Triforce lost everything he held dear, long before he met his fate on the blade of this sword. The power of the gods only led him and those he came into contact with to ruin and despair."

"Ah, thank you for reminding me why I am here," the Gerudo King said. Without looking at Rauru, he left Link be and walked up to the Triforce in the middle of the room, appraising it with coveting eyes as he basked in its golden radiance. "Your warnings mean nothing to me," he said. "Or are you trying to scare me by suggesting this thing is cursed?"

"Perhaps it is," Rauru said pensively "By claiming the Triforce, you may doom your people just as easily as you may save them. You are entitled to gamble your own life, but not theirs!"

"What do you know about our lives?" Ganondorf turned around and shouted at Rauru. "We live at the edge of the desert, barely scraping by day after day! Half of our children starve before they reach adulthood! This can't even be called 'life' to begin with!"

_So the lot of the Gerudo has not changed since my time_..._ What a pity._

"Do the people whose lives you risk share your opinion?" Rauru asked.

"Bah." Ganondorf snorted and raised his head high. "I am their king. I know best what's good for them. Nabooru and the other fools who secretly oppose me will yet come to accept that. And besides," he cut off Rauru who wanted to make one last attempt at dissuading him, "it's far too late for me to turn back now. The King of Hyrule died by my hands, which makes peace between the Gerudo and the Hylians impossible. All that's left for me to do is to seize my destiny. And since your words do not have the power to stop me, you can only watch." Without further words, Ganondorf dismissed Rauru, stepped toward the Triforce and raised his right hand.

_This man is so consumed by his hatred and misery that he cannot be reasoned with. Exactly as Kasuto predicted. _

Rauru considered warning the Gerudo King about what would happen next, but he decided against it: Ganondorf would only consider his words another futile attempt to scare him away.

_It is as he said: I can only watch._

Ganondorf pressed his palm against the Triforce, and an ethereal voice began to speak. The Gerudo King ignored its words and interrupted it, unwilling to listen to even more ominous warnings.

"Triforce!" he shouted. "I wish to be the ruler of this land! Give Hyrule to me!"

But Ganondorf's wish was not fulfilled: With a calmness that infuriated him, the disembodied voice informed him that he had been found wanting; that his heart was not in balance, and that he would only receive one third of the Triforce. When he heard that, the Gerudo King began to rage, demanding obedience from its price, cursing and shouting when his demands were summarily ignored. Rauru watched in silence, gaining no satisfaction from Ganondorf's anger.

In the end, the Triforce split in three pieces that slowly drifted away from each other, while the voice explained to the Gerudo King the conditions for its reconstruction. A bloody hand print could still be seen on the topmost part, and it was this part that entered Ganondorf's body, transforming into a crest on the back of his right hand. The second part traveled toward the portal to Hyrule and vanished, while the third part shot toward the sleeping boy and entered his body.

"What? This kid got a part, too?" Ganondorf stomped toward the boy, extending his hands as if he was about to choke him and claim his Triforce piece for his own.

"Stop!" Rauru called out, desperate to save the boy, although Kasuto's prophecy was dreadfully vague as to how he was supposed to do that. "Don't kill him!"

"Prevent me," Ganondorf growled, not even deigning to look at Rauru.

"He can lead you to the third piece!" the Sage of Light shouted, and his words got Ganondorf's attention. "He will awaken in a number of years, and he'll no doubt look for the third piece, too!"

"You're just saying that so I don't kill him, old man," Ganondorf snarled.

"I admit it!" Rauru said. "But that doesn't change anything! Whoever receives the third piece will surely trust this boy more than you! You only have to watch him, and-"

"Make him do the work for me? Like I did before? Hm..." Still seething with fury and disappointment, Ganondorf considered Rauru's advice, while the Sage of Light nervously peered at the boy whose life he was trying to save.

_He looks a bit like my grandson_, he thought sorrowfully. _Except that he was always so timid. He would never even have touched a sword..._

"Very well," Ganondorf said after a short while, his rage cooled down somewhat. "I'll do as you suggested, Rauru. Going on a wild-goose-chase all over Hyrule doesn't suit me – I'd rather spend the time rooting out all who would resist me."

_Thank you, merciful Goddesses! If the hero had died here-_

"Don't look so relieved," the Gerudo King told Rauru with audible dismay. "I know what you're thinking – that this kid will defeat me one day. Ridiculous!" He turned his back toward both Rauru and the boy and strode toward the portal to Hyrule. "Mark my words, old fool, you have only bought him a reprieve. Tell him that when he wakes up."

_Most certainly not_, Rauru thought as he watched Ganondorf stomp through the portal, leaving the Sacred Realm. With a shudder, he remembered the last part of Kasuto's prophecy: In his frustration, this King of Evil would bring ruin to Hyrule and rule it with an iron fist for seven years, until he would be confronted by the boy sleeping nearby.

_Now if only she could have been bothered to predict the outcome of that fight, too..._

Fortunately for him, the spell that bound him to this place spared Rauru seven years worth of anxiety and worry: With the only conscious living being gone from this chamber, he felt the Spirit Trance reclaim him and saw his body become transparent. With a silent shake of his head, he glanced one last time at the sleeping boy who had nothing but hardships waiting for him when he woke up. There was a grim look on his face even as he slept, as if part of him knew already, had always known, what his destiny would be.

_Once the Master Sword deems him ready_, _I will awaken along with him,_ _and set him upon his arduous path_, Rauru thought as his sight faded once again_. How shameful, to thrust the task of saving the world on a child, while I go back to nothingness..._

The Temple of Light faded before his eyes, and Rauru vanished again. Only the Hero remained behind, granted the dubious reprieve of a magical sleep, clutched firmly in the cruel hands of fate that would never set him free as long as there was evil in the world.

THE END

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_(Completely Optional) Closing Notes:_

_I'm not big into author's notes unless they're really necessary, or if it's the ending of the story where they can't interrupt the flow anymore. However, this happens to be the ending, so I shall ramble for a bit.  
_

_I was writing this story under fortunate circumstances that allowed me to put a large portion of my time into it, which is why I wrote it comparatively quickly, considering its scope. Which was probably why I could keep all the story threads coordinated and reduce the number of plot holes or inconsistencies to an acceptable minimum. Those lucky circumstances probably won't repeat themselves anytime soon, but I'm glad to have made this unique experience._

_I came up with the idea for this story - combining backstory elements from multiple Zelda games - years ago, when I was very much into Zelda timelines. Although that changed over time (at the very least, I don't see a unified timeline as plausible anymore; I now prefer a modular approach where some games connect with others, but not all of them), the story idea stuck in my memory somehow, and after finishing Twilight of the Goddesses, I was confident enough in my abilities to pull the concept off._

_Speaking of Twilight of the Goddesses, Curse of the Triforce was originally supposed to be a prequel to it. However, when I arrived at the point where the Master Sword first appeared, I decided to drop that connection. Coming so late in the story, and introducing several new elements (evil goddesses, etc) that were not really relevant to CotT's plot, it would have severely disrupted the pacing and muddled the focus. Sometimes, what looked good in the outline just doesn't work out in the end - a good thing for me to learn, since I otherwise stuck very closely to my outline. Anyway, since a few reviewers mentioned that they suspected a connection at first, I felt I should mention it: Yes, you were right, I just changed my mind._

_And speaking of reviewers: Thank you for taking the time to give me some (very positive!) feedback, which I took as a confirmation that I was doing something right. The story didn't get very many views, for which I probably have only myself to blame (what did I expect, writing about mostly original characters on a fan fiction site?), so the knowledge that some people out there were enjoying it contributed greatly to my motivation._

_I enjoyed myself, too, as I wrote this story, and will hopefully find the time to continue writing in some capacity, whether it's on this site or others like it. Or professionally. A man can dream._

_Lord Syntax  
_


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